Halo: Belligerence Involved
by WhereIsTheCuprite
Summary: For he, who today, sheds his blood with me is my brother……and he, who today, runs away, is gonna get a pop in the jaw when I get back!
1. Prologue

HALO: BELLIGERENCE INVOLVED

**HALO: BELLIGERENCE INVOLVED**

Halo, characters not made up by the author, and most of the things that include the words "Halo", "Bungie",

and "Master Chief" are registered trademarks or trademarks of the Microsoft Corporation. Personalities and

designs of characters you've never heard of, don't care about, or wouldn't imagine belong to

1000Bolsheviks. _The Flood_ written by William C. Dietz

**Letter processing. Lance Corporal Desmond Bialaski (KIA?), **_**Reach**_**. To be sent to: Felicia Bialaski, **_**Earth**_

You know what's the most annoying thing about being a Marine? People back home are always trying to do things to help out the war effort and to try and support us. Which is cool in all, we really appreciate it……but, eight of out ten times this has happened, they do a real shitty job of it. They send us things like suntan lotion, toothpaste, nostalgic trinkets, and other items that may fall into those categories. Don't get me wrong, those things are highly useful most of the time, but it gets kind of old, you know? It's not even the good, reliable brands of toiletries or whatever. They send us like, CVS and Kroger brand products. I mean, we could use like, more soldiers or ammunition or something. If you're out on the frontline and there's an eight-foot-tall alien coming at you, you don't want to reach into your vest and pull out a tube of CVS lotion. I mean, we could use some goddamn bullets or grenades. What are you going to do, make sure he doesn't get sunburned? I can see how effective _that_ would be. Maybe aliens like to get sunburned or have poor hygiene, I don't know. They're ugly sons of bitches so maybe it would do them some good. Since you're not a Devildog, leatherneck, or any other outrageous synonym for Marine, you might not understand the way I feel, you might even think that this topic is pretty stuck-up, I know.

Another thing that kind of creeps me out is the lack of co-ed facilities. I mean, I'm as tolerant as the next guy, but seriously, hanging around with men all day is getting old. It's okay if you're like, at the bar every Friday night, but, yeah, there's just something about this constant sausage-fest that sort of bothers me. After three years, I think you would sympathize, I hope.

The care package you sent me was reassuring. I'm glad that dad is looking better. I hope things back home are doing better than out here. I don't mean to scare you or anything, but that's just the morale around town. Tell Randi to keep away from the other guys until I get home and that I love her and I've been looking at houses for sale in other colonies in my free time. Or what's left of them. It might be nice to get away and literally start new. What _is _free time? I don't know anymore. Wish the family well and I'll see you when I get home.

Love from your big brother (I'm watching!)

Desmond

**CHAPTER -1 **

**0103 Hours, September 19, 2552 (Military Calendar)/**

**UNSC Cruiser**_** Pillar of Autumn**_**, location: We're in your kitchen, killing your aliens. **

Tech Officer Sam Marcus cursed loudly as the intercom roused him from his sleep cycle, causing him to arise suddenly and smack his head on the top bunk of his bed while trying to glance at the Mission Clock. He'd been battling a severe case of insomnia and had finally been able to get more than two hours of sleep. Ever since the ship reached real space, everyone had been on guard and wary of any and all activity. Surely _everyone_ agrees that he's worthy of the single tear gesture.

"Jesus H. Christ," he muttered to himself. "This had _better_ be good."

The "Old Man" had put the Navy tech crews on triple shifts after the _Pillar of Autumn_ escaped from Reach, the UNSC base that was in the process of being glassed by the Covenant. _Why_ Keyes did that was _beyond_ him, seeing as all of the naval officers and techs werepansies by nature. Nearly one third of the tech staff had died during the flight from Reach and the situation was even more than difficult that it usually was.

Everyone else went into the "freezer". Of course, the kind of freezer intended for _food_. Non-essential personnel always went into _that_ "freezer" because there was a shortage of cryotubes due to the various strikes within the cryo factories on Earth and her colonies. Right now though, he was _so_ tired, that even the thought of the uncomfortable, cramped, and suffocating nature paired with an ice cube container jamming into his hams sounded appealing if it meant several hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe someone had also left a pint of ice cream or a bag of frozen peas in one as well, who knows?

The intercom rang again with a noise that sounded like a really lame default ringtone on a Cingular phone. He swung himself out of his bunk and jabbed the comm. control.

"Marcus here," he drawled.

"Heeeeeey, Sam! What's goin' on, homeguy?! Whatcha up to?" Tech Chief Thom Shepard sounded delirious, or inebriated. Sam couldn't tell.

"……Sleeping," grunted Sam.

"That's cool. Um, we need you down in Cryo Two. It's uh, kinda important."

"I'm _not_ a Cryo-Specialist," Sam remarked.

"Well it's pretty……I mean I'm not supposed to tell you this, wink, we need a certain, wink, super-soldier, cough, to help stop the, nudge, Covenant boarding crafts that are nudge coming in……wink," Shepard replied. "Loose lips explode fusion cores and destroy ships, so you gotta use code."

_Say it so the whole galaxy can hear_, Sam thought as he winced at the tone of his "superior's" voice. Just thinking about a young half-wit like Shepard being of higher rank than himself was enough to make him angry six point zero two times ten to the twenty third. He'd known Thom since "the Academy", back in the days when it was all red plastic cups, looking at stars, driving remote control cars, and mattress jousting.

"Okay, um," Shepard started again. "I uh, think you should head down here. S'kinda lonely, if you know what I mean. I even tried to play 'Battleship' with myself. I totally won. _Maybe_ I'll let you play if you come down."

"It's tempting."

"I know, right? I'm on fire and I'm like, lettin' that motherfucker burn. You know, if you can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen. Anyway, Sam Marcus, _come on down_!"

Sam sighed. "Be down in a jiffy."

"Hot damn! I'm sending a feed to your terminal, Samnation," Shepard said. "It should answer any questions you might still have and whatnot. Dump it to a portable 'pad, grab your gear, and get down here……oh God! That's a rhyme if I ever saw one!"

"Jesus H. Christ……" Sam groaned again, shaking his head. He stood, shrugged into his uniform jumpsuit and stepped over to his terminal. He booted up his computer and waited for the upload from Shepard.

A few seconds later, a box popped up at the edge of the desktop wallpaper. It depicted a highly peeved Persian cat wearing a lime peel on its head in the form of a wig. Someone had written "Miranda" with an arrow pointing to the cat on the "Paint" accessory and sent it to all of the members of the UNSC Naval Branch. He opened the file and the remix of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" by the current favourite hip hop group on Earth, PeopleMoover and the 4 Realzeez (featuring Boss Dumb Drum), began playing. He grunted in disapproval and closed the file. Sam then heard hysterical laughter over the intercom.

"No, no, really! Fur sure! _This time_ I'll send it!" Shepard laugh-shouted. Sam ran his hand over his hair as he shook his head again. The terminal made one of those cheerful "you've got files!" pings as the feed from Shepard appeared in Sam's message queue.

"Receiving the feed," he called out emotionlessly to the intercom pickup. He opened the file. A frown creased his tired features as a new message scrolled across his screen.

**FILE ENCRYPTED/ EYES ONLY/ MARCUS, SAMUEL N./SN: 18827318209-M. **

**DECRIPTION KEY: PERSONALIZED: **"**ELLEN'S AFFAIR"**

He rolled his eyes and sighed angrily. Shepard hung around with Ensign William Lovell too much. Lovell was the guy the other neighbourhood moms told you to keep your kids away from. He was a bad influence on _everyone_, a kid from the _wrong_ side of the tracks. Lovell was obsessed with anything erotic or remotely so, especially dirty jokes. He also had an ungodly addiction to pornography. Lovell only had two positive aspects about himself……he knew about _everyone_'_s_ relationship status aboard whatever ship or station he was serving on. That, _and_……he was a rockabilly monster. Hits from Dion, Dibbs Preston and the Detonators, The Stray Cats, and other rockabilly and psychobilly artists, constantly played at his terminal and in his quarters. Despite his aesthetically pleasing outward appearance and his grossly gelled pompadour, he could _never_ get a date back on Earth and women avoided him like a quarantined house. Urban legends had suggested that he was having a long-distance "relationship" with Ellen, Sam's wife, which included lewd emails and holo-phone sex. Lovell, being the person he was, even bragged about it. It had stuck and became one of those obnoxious inside jokes. The ones that only three people take seriously out of your whole collective and continue to repeat it for weeks, still cracking up as though they'd heard it for the first time.

He glanced up the picture of his wife that was taped to the edge of the screen. It was from one Halloween party in which they had gone as Miss Kitty and the Sheriff from "Gunsmoke". Sam hadn't seen his wife in three years, since his last shore leave on Earth, in fact.

He punched a series of numbers—the date of his wedding—and enabled the decryption suite. In seconds, the screen filled with schematics and tech readouts. His practiced eye scanned the file and adrenaline suddenly spiked his veins like Jack Daniels in the punch at a high school dance.

"Jesus H. Christ……Thom, is this what……_who_ I think this is?"

"Damn straight, homeguy. Better groove on down to Cryo Two on the double, Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong. We got an important package to thaw out. Methinks it's gonna get hot in here _real_ soon."

"……The nicknames……why?" Sam said as he killed the intercom connection. He quickly dumped the tech file to his portable com. pad and deleted the original from his computer. He strode to the door to his cabin, but then stopped. He turned sharply and snatched Ellen's picture from the computer.

He sprinted for the lift. If the Captain wanted the inhabitant of Cryo Two revived, it meant that Keyes was getting lonely……_very_ lonely.

Buried deeply inside the heavily armoured hull, in the bowels of a Covenant cruiser, stood Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee and his crew of a half dozen senior Elites. Every one of the burly warriors busied themselves, hard at work. He stood at the center of his cruiser's control room and stared at the data projections which appeared on a pedestal projector front of him. One showed the ring world, Halo, and the other showed a schematic titled THEMS ATTACK SHIP, TYPE C-II. A third scrolled a constant flow of targeting data and sensor readouts and a fourth displayed an old episode of "The Rachel Raydroid Show", the robot Rachel Ray who _still_ hosted her television show and _still_ couldn't decide if it was going to be a cooking show or a talk show.

He attempted to look as conspicuous as he could as he pulled a small pill case from a pocket on his battle harness. _Hm_……_I wonder if anyone is watching_, he thought as he pulled out a small vial and tore the packaging off of a fresh syringe. He carefully loaded the syringe with the contents from the vial, despite the fact that his hands were much larger than his supplies.

Accompanying the pharmaceutically engrossed Ship Master was a Minor Prophet, the Prophet of Perpetual Silence, and his tiresome assistant. The assistant, a lower-ranking Elite named Bako 'Ikaporamee, stood solemnly next to the "Holy One" as he watched 'Fulsamee, even though the Ship Master's back was turned. 'Ikaporamee heard the Ship Master begin to hum "Gypsy Song" from the _Carmen_ opera, an idiosyncrasy he had that was well marked before his shooting up, on account of his cocaine addiction.

'Fulsamee extended his left arm, still huming the rapturous melody. The veins in the middle of his arm, where the forearm met the upper arm, bulged as he searched for an area that wasn't already covered in purple or brown punctures that dotted his blue-green scales. When satisfied that he had found an area in which to reach a vein, he raised the needle so it was waiting by the side of his helmet. 'Ikaporamee, who heard the Ship Master drop down the scale from D Concert, rolled his eyes. He had watched this routine so many times prior to this one that he knew everything that 'Fulsamee did in order _and_ the amount of time it took to do it. 'Fulsamee thrust the needle down deeply into the biggest vein in his arm and hollered as he did so exactly four seconds later. He slowly but heartily forced the stimulants into his bloodstream via the syringe. His hands started to tremour, causing his grip to become unsteady on the syringe, jostling it around much more than desired. He shut his eyes and snapped them open several times before blinking at a particularly speedy pace. 'Fulsamee shook his head twice, quickly. While throwing his head back he screamed, "dammit, William!" After a series of deep inhaling and exhaling through his mouth, he jostled the needle around until it lurched free from his vein. He removed the needle, produced a second vial from the pill case, and discarded it in a small tube. His voice was crazed and hurried as he assessed the situation. Cocaine "helped him work more efficiently", or so _he_ thought.

"They must have followed one of our ships! We need-we need to find the bastard that led them here and rub 'em out, Ex-Exalted!"

As he said this, 'Ikaporamee, the Prophet, and another Elite huddled American football style. After a minute of review, they all clapped their hands once, and the assistant turned to confront the Ship Master. 'Ikaporamee, however, thinking he was higher ranked than he actually was, addressed the Ship Master out of step.

"That is very unlikely, Ship Master. I speak for the Prophet and we doubt the humans have the means to follow one of our vessels through a jump. Even if they do, why would they send only a single cruiser? Is it not their way to drown us in their own blood? No, we assume it is safe to surmise that this ship arrived here on accident."

The words dripped with condescension, a fact that angered the already coked up 'Fulsamee, but alas, could not be addressed. 'Fulsamee was not willing to cave in entirely, though.

"So, so you would have me believe that the interlopers arrived here by _chance_?!"

"No, of course not. I speak for the Prophet," 'Ikaporamee replied loftily, "and though primitive by our standards, the creatures _are_ sentient and, like all sentient life, they are mystically drawn to the ancient ones' truth and knowledge."

Like all members of the Covenant, they were forced to believe that the Prophets evolved on a planet which the mysterious Forerunners had previously inhabited, and then, for reasons unknown, subsequently abandoned. They were the Jehovah's Witness of the galaxy, except they _killed_ you when you declined absorbtion into their religion.

'Fulsamee found it hard to believe that mere humans would be drawn to the ancients' wisdom notwithstanding. He also found it hard to stay "clean". But 'Ikaporamee spoke for the Prophet, and if it was good enough for the Prophet, it was good enough for him. This particular Prophet had taken a vow of silence, hence the title, spoke only through 'Ikaporamee and, although minor, still held high rank above the Ship Master. 'Fulsamee tremulously touched a light panel in front of him, a holo-button glowed red. "Prepare to fire plasma torpedoes. Launch on my command!"

The Prophet performed the gesture that doubled as "safe!" and "no way!" and then snapped his fingers to get 'Ikaporamee's attention. He raised both hands in alarm.

"_No_! _We _forbid it! I speak for the Prophet and he says the human vessel is much too close to the construct! What if your weapons were to damage the holy ring?! Pursue the ship, board it, and seize control. Anything else is far too dangerous."

Angered further by the assistant's interruption, 'Fulsamee spoke through gritted teeth. "The course of action the holy one recommends is bound to end in a high number of casualties. Is this acceptable?"

"Psh, what do _we_ care? _We_ are not going. This is one of the many perks of being of a higher class," the other Elite responded. "The humans are willing to spend _their_ lives—can _we_ do less?"

The Ship Master clicked his mandibles and touched another light panel. "Cancel the previous order. Load four transports with troops and launch another flight of warriors! Neutralize the interloper's weaponry before the boarding craft reach their target!"

'Ikaporamee grinned to himself as the Ship Master turned around and was beginning to dive into his depression period. He had, again, gotten _his_ way.

The thundering sound of twenty pairs of combat boots and the rattling of home-made war medals rang out distinctly in one of the scores of passageways in the Index Library. There weren't many Flood forms down in the lowest part of the building, but those that were present were ordered to stand against the wall and erect their left arms as a salute to their leaders until they passed. The procession revolved around the two Flood dictators, Commanders Ivan and Jared. They strode gallantly down the corridor with six of their highest-ranking, and more preferred, soldiers along with twelve Schützstaffel bodyguards. The highest-ranking soldiers were Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, a robust ex-human combat form who didn't know the meaning of the phrase "indoor voice" and was in charge of every set of Field Marshal and Brigadier General Marshal orders. He was also in charge of the "Wings of Pestilence" air brigade, which was made up of stolen Longswords and Covenant Spirits. He also held position as the Commanders' second-in-command and Commander Ivan's personal bodyguard. Ringsminister Speekeasie was also an ex-human. None of the Flood had ever heard him speak but had somehow been promoted to the position as Minister of Propaganda and Public Communications. Officer Douglas 'Magee was a tough ex-Elite and was one of Commander Jared's personal bodyguards. His only flaw was the fact that he wasn't very bright. He did, however, shoot or attack anything he was ordered to. Such blind loyalty had its uses. Officer Leroy Nuremberg was the newest addition to the Schützstaffeln family and thoroughly irritated nearly everyone because of his timid, rookie-like ways and flamboyantly loud personality. Lastly, Staff Sergeant Bradley Kristallnacht was an ex-Elite and Commander Jared's other personal bodyguard. He had a nasty habit of being places you didn't want him to be. Kristallnacht was the one the Commanders employed when they wanted inside information or material on a certain soldier.

Not long after infection, Ivan and Jared had boasted of establishing a totalitarian government system, much to the disgust of their master, the Gravemind. He didn't consider the two much of a threat until after "Control Room Putsch", when both potential dictators held a meeting in Halo's control room to discuss how the rings were goverened and how they should be changed. He ordered Ivan and Jared to be imprisoned on the tenth floor of the Index Library along with those who followed them and supported their ideas. Jared managed to escape to a remote part of the ring. However……Ivan was not so lucky. He spent roughly a year in confinement with the other fascists and managed to write a draft for a potential book called _Heil If You Hear Me_, which thoroughly explained his ideas and beliefs. It was edited by his personal secretary and fellow prisoner, Rudinger Mess, and read by all of those imprisioned as well as a large portion of the combat forms. The Gravemind finally decided to let Ivan and Jared assume command of the Flood on the ring, however, they neglected to tell him they would still rule with a totalitarian fist. The Gravemind was so desperate for ideas on how to liberate his species that he failed to notice the shout of fascism that emitted from the ring.

Commander Ivan was an ex-human as well as Major aboard the human cruiser _Scylla IV_, which had been shot down by the Covenant in the year 2549 and lost. It crash-landed on the surface of the ring world. His true, Flood identity had long been interested in war tactics, strategies, and weaponry throughout the galaxy's history. The time-honoured ways of chaos so familiar to the Flood bored him. His host body was a violent and respected enemy of the Covenant as well as brilliant tactician and an asset the UNSC Marine Corps. With intensely strong charismatic skills, he succeeded in persuading the soldiers taken by the Flood to join him in a plan to purge all sentient life that he thought were "impure". The infection form that had taken over the human body had an immense dislike of any creature that wasn't of Flood origin, especially the Forerunners and those who honoured them, because of the "horrors" it witnessed when they drove back the Flood and trapped them in the ring. The Forerunners were frequently a scapegoat, however, many ignorant alien races failed to see that they were among the first known sentient beings in the galaxy and the creators of many useful and technological instruments, many of which were mimicked by current alien races.

Commander Jared was an ex-Covenant Elite and an outstanding fighter. Leading the life of a respected Ultra Elite Commander previous to "floodification", Jared was one of the finest warriors in his fleet. Although not as charismatic as his partner, he bore double the strength and speed and was feared by every Flood soldier. A far less threatening and violent leader, he was secretly preferred over Ivan, but none dared to admit that even to themselves for fear of being executed. Jared took a vast amount of pride in being of Flood origin, however……he believed that the Flood could escape their prison and thrive in the galaxy as the dominant race _without_ having to destroy other sentient beings in the process. This caused a rift in his relationship with Ivan and was constantly negotiating and quarreling with him. The most distinguishing quality of Commander Jared was the outrageous speech impediment he had. Over one hundred thousand years of hibernation can really do things to you, one of the more interesting conditions bestowed upon the Flood was given to Jared. No matter how low their echelons were, _all_ of the soldiers constantly teased him or mocked him, his counterpart Ivan being the worst of them all.

Over the years, other differences had caused the riffs between the dictators to expand even more. Another main issue was host-race, as portrayed by "favourites" in Field Marshals, promotions in the Schützstaffeln and army, and current leaders of various positions in the War Department. Rumours and urban legends had leaked out that the Covenant portion of the central leaders tried several methods to assassinate Commander Ivan.

The rumours were dubbed false, the sources found and executed.

The goal of the tyrants, by now, was to eliminate _any_ and _every_ form of life that wasn't consumed by the Flood or couldn't be consumed by in order to form "a pure and orderly" galaxy. This objective was commonly referred to as "the Great Deluge", similar to when overflowing rivers, lakes, or massive hurricanes engulf towns and cities.

The grim squad marched down a passageway lined with saluting combat forms, the dictators taking the time to nod at every other soldier in greeting and acknowledgement or to limpy hold up hands. Coming to the end of the chamber, the squad stopped before a large lift. Six of the SS guards stepped in first, checked that there were no threats, and ushered the commanding officers inside. The other six waited outside until they had entered and proceeded to follow. One soldier stood by the control panel and activated the lift, which rose upward. Even though the commanding officers kept weapons on themselves at all times, one could never be too cautious. They had no less than ten SS members with them at all times.

Commander Jared looked to Ivan at his right. The other Flood was staring straight ahead, motionless. He nudged him gently. Ivan looked up at his counterpart.

"Are you prepored fro today's rally?" he inquired quietly.

"……Have I ever _not_ been prepared?" Ivan challenged with a hearty chuckle. Jared, as usual, wasn't too thrilled with the hilarity Ivan got out of his condition. "……Have there been any new infections of late? Any more crashes to report?" Ivan questioned, trying to hold in subtle laughter.

"Nothring that our pratrol has reprorted. This ring sreems quite devroid other than our crollectrive."

Ivan nodded stiffly. "A shame. We still haven't reached our goal of one hundred thousand SS members yet."

"I frind it difficrult trew belive we have more than _eleven hundred_ able brodies to deploy as _infrantry_," Jared answered.

The lift came to a halt. The same routine took place as six bodyguards stepped out first to secure the area. This chamber was teaming with many more combat Floods than the first level. The galleries fell silent as the Commanders entered. Forming two single file lines on either side of the party rather quickly, they all raised left arms in salutation. Both tyrants passed through the room rather quickly, much was to be done and commanding officers shouldn't be wasteful of their time. Preparations still had to be made for the upcoming rally.

The Library was a dismal place, especially in the morning. It was dimly lit, riddled with steep drop-offs and bottomless pits, and was swarming with all different kinds of Flood forms. Infection forms scurried around in circles and fought one another, carriers sauntered around with nothing to chase, and combat forms idled about, wrestling with the intense boredom of the immense building. One combat form in particular cruised the wide chambers of the Library on a mission from God.

His name was Patrick, otherwise known as Big Pat. No one is for sure about the origin of his nickname, seeing as he wasn't any bigger or stronger than the average sized Covenant Flood. He did, however, have a highly flamboyant personality. I don't really think that had anything to do with the nickname either. I don't really think that had to do with _anything_.

"Hey, Kirk," he said, grabbing the shoulder of a passing ex-human.

"Yep?" was the answer.

"Have you seen Stanley lately?"

"Um……" Kirk looked thoughtful. "I _think_ he's around in the general vicinity, however, I don't think I could tell you _where_."

"Oh, wull, at least I'm in the right place. Thanks a lot," Big Pat said. He sallied forth, eager to find his friend. He passed by a group of infection forms chasing each other around and a carrier sitting on the metal floor, but not for whom he was searching for. Big Pat was busy scanning a pocket of space between two raised areas, when he ran smack into another combat form.

"Private Patrick! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Oh! Sorry, Ander—"

"—That's _Captain_ Anderson to _you_, dirt bag!"

"I said I was sor—"

"—Why don't you watch where you're going?! Why must you _always_ be in the way?!"

"I din' mean to—"

"—Am I finished talking to you? I think not! How many times do I have to remind you that you're talking to a commanding officer?!"

"_Every_ time," Big Pat sighed.

"And _why_ is that?!"

"Because I'm an incapable Private 'n I don't have any respect for my commanding officers……"

"Hell no, you don't, dirt bag! You're too busy whining like a baby! Baby wanna bottle? A dirt bottle?!"

"No, I don't wanna dirt bottle."

"Then drop and give me fifty!" the upset Captain hollered. Big Pat heaved another sigh and got into position. Captain Anderson placed one of his tall jackboots on Pat's back. "Start counting! _Out loud_! If you skip one, you're going all the way back to zero and going up to one hundred!" he instructed, pulling a cigarette out of a breast pocket on his black tunic.

Of all the classifications of Flood there are in the universe, none are as cruel and harsh as high-ranking totalitarian Floods. Not only was Captain Anderson one of the highest-ranked officers, he also proudly served as part of the dreaded Flood Schützstaffeln, _Captain_ of the dreaded Flood Schützstaffeln. He wore a shiny and decorated black uniform which he kept allergically clean. His hair was worn in the same style as Commander Ivan and many of the ex-huan officers in the Schützstaffeln and was also the same white colour as his leader's, a side-effect from chemical reactions from infection. It was rather untidy and limply hung over half of his pointed and somewhat sunken face. His most noticable charateristic was a pair of round, thick-framed glasses in which a long spider-crack had crawled across the entire right lens.

"Forty eight, forty nine, fifty……I'm finished, Captain Anderson," Big Pat said, finishing relatively quickly.

"……Very well, carry on, Private," Anderson sneered, removing his boot from the other Flood's back and stalking off.

"I hate my life," Big Pat said as he approached two more conversing combat forms. "Hey, guys. Have any of you seen my better half lately?" he inquired within.

"He's over there," one guy said, pointing to a far corner.

"……Okay, thanks," Pat said, hurrying over towards the designated area. Stanley, in question, was a human combat form. He had his back turned to everyone's view, but Pat could tell he was busying himself with something.

"Hey, Stan."

"Hold on just a moment, Patsy."

"What are you—oh my God, _no_!" he yelled as Stanley revealed his latest undertaking.

"Ta-daaa!" he said, displaying his work.

"……Whadja you do to 'Dangerous' Dan?!" Big Pat inquired. Stanley had taken their good carrier friend, put a women's naval uniform on it, and painted a large and somewhat frightening face on the front of the beast.

"I call 'her'……Carrie," Stanley said.

"……You _do_ realize we can't be friends now, right?" Pat said.

"One less oppressive leader hanging over my shoulder. Go get them boys, Carrie," he said, giving "Dangerous" Dan a kick in the right direction.

It made a grotesque noise as it waddled towards another group of combat forms, who took alarm.

"_This_ is what you do when you leave early in the morning?" Pat demanded.

"Relax, carriers are pretty much genderless and you _know_ how much I hate stereotypes."

"How couldja take advantage of 'im like that?!" Big Pat asked angrily.

"Hey, it's not like I _forced_ him to do it, he totally obliged," Stanley said in his defense.

"I'm _never _gonna understand you."

"_Nobody_ could ever understand the Flood, honey," Stanley answered. He took a second to look over Big Pat's significantly broader shoulder. "Let's take a walk. Even _I_ wouldn't touch Himmler over there with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole," Stanley said, nodding towards Anderson, who was perched arrogantly on top of a support pillar glowing with Forerunner hieroglyphs, overlooking the area.

"Psh, _yeah_," Big Pat agreed as they turned the other way.

"So……what's new with you on this dreary morning?" Stan inquired.

"Nothing much, aside from Anderson stopping me on my way over."

"Again?"

"_Again_."

"Sheesh, one promotion and they go insane. This is where give 'em and inch and they take a mile comes into play," Stanley commented. "You know what? I bet those double 'S's' on their armlets stand for 'Sex Slave'."

"Do not."

"Uh-huh! I already bet Private Devon that it does. As soon as I get concrete proof, he'll give me his shotgun."

Big Pat laughed. "How about you? How'r you?"

"Meh, same old shit. I'm a little upset though because I misplaced my M6D and now I can't seem to find it," Stanley answered, stroking the longest tendril sprouting from his chest.

"Well, I hope ya find it soon. Yull be in a tight spot if ya don't," Big Pat said.

"Yeah, yeah, get off my back, woman," Stanley remarked.

Rounding the next bend, a small group of combat forms surrounded the two-some.

"Hey Stanley, do some of your impressions of our commanding officers!" a former human requested. The rest of the group agreed heartily at the same time.

"Aw, c'mon you guys, aren't you sick of those? You make me do them _all the time_."

"Yeah, but _you're_ the only one who's done it and lived to tell the tale!"

"Okay, okay, fine. By popular demand I'll do it," Stanley gave in. The seven eager combat forms cheered.

"_But_……I'm gonna need some glasses and a bullet belt."

An excited soldier gladly pulled his off of his face and handed them over and another lent a belt of ammunition.

"Do I have any requests for who to do first? Or should I make it a surprise?" Stanley inquired.

"Surprise us," a former Elite soldier said. Stanley chuckled as he put the glasses down on his nose.

"PRIVATE PATRICK! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN'?! WHY DO YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO WALK IN FRONT OF ME LIKE THAT?!" Stanley yelled, distorting his face even more in a disgusted sneer.

"Why are you always picking on _him_, _Captain Anderson_?" another soldier asked through gales of laughter.

"BECAUSE HE'S A WHININ' BABY! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, TALKIN' TO AN OFFICER LIKE THAT?! YOU GODDAMN DIRTBAG! BABY WANNA BOTTLE—"

"A dirt bottle!" the group answered in unison.

"All right you scum-licking maggots! I'm Ringsmarschal Hindenburg! Even though I'm second-in-command, all of these medals I have were made by lower ranking combat Flood maggots! My hobbies include my morphine addiction, beating and raping my soldiers, and getting my ass pounded by Commander Ivan!" Stanley continued with his commanding officer monologues, the voices and body language down to a science. He moved on to the next high-ranking officer, leaving the other soldiers hurting from laughter.

"Hey guys! My name's Officer Nuremberg! Hey, do any of you guys wanna have ladytimes? Let's go have ladytimes together! I'm a blatantly gay stereotype and I don't care!"

"That's so creepy! You sound _exactly_ like him," Big Pat commented.

"Wait, we've still got one last guy," Stanley said. He put the glasses back on, further down his nose this time, forced himself to have a double-chin, and frowned.

"Marshal Speekeasie!" the soldiers hollered.

"You guys are getting too good," Stanley said at last, handing the glasses and the bullet belt back to their respective owners.

"All combat forms report to the rally chamber! Commander Ivan has an important address to make!" bellowed Captain Anderson as he stormed through the corridors of the Library.

"Aw man, not _anothur_ rally," Big Pat whined.

"You know, when everyone said 'never again' back in 1945, they were lying," Stanley commented.

"Yeah, I guess yer right."

A small file of Covenant soldiers stood at attention, features completely impassive. The soldiers

were all Elites, the heart of the Covenant military. In the line of eight, all were wearing the azure armour of Minor Officers, except the two that bordered the beginning and end of the file, who wore the crimson armour of Majors. Surrounding the singled-out file were other Elites of various ranks using Grunts as moving targets, repairing and or charging plasma rifles, and performing other types of celerity practice and feats of strength.

A haughty gold-armoured Elite paced back and forth in front of the file of impassive soldiers. "You all _know_ why you are here," he began, his deep voice echoing in the chamber. "Considering the fact that humans still pose little threat, the Council has made it clear that before registering new soldiers into the military, we are to make sure you harbour all the requirements needed to take on the vermin. Now, when I call your name, you are to first spar with my lovely assistant Rukta 'Repartee—"

"—I _hate_ community service," 'Repartee said loudly. He was a mangy Elite with scarcely any emotion, space-black armour, and gray Marine field gear that was _clearly way_ too small for him.

"—If you hate it so much, then _I_ suggest that you _not_ go around painting Sang-ginas on Banshees and absconding with fuel tanks for Wraiths!" the gold-armoured Elite snapped, turning his attention back to the new soldiers. Everyone is quite aware of the fact that all Elites have vaginas, or in this case, Sang-ginas. Why that is will be discussed later, at a different time, at a different place. 'Repartee flipped him the arm while his superior's back was turned. One of the blue-armoured Elites tried to hold his laughter in, but failed to do so and muffled a chuckle. The gold-armoured Elite immediately looked up from his alien clipboard and scanned the file.

"Who was that?!" he demanded, baring his fangs. The Elite that was third in line gestured to the soldier at his left with his thumb. The soldier first in line had his eyes focused on the ceiling innocently as he held his arms behind his back and rocked on his heels.

The gold Elite shuddered. "Ugh……I should have known……Riley 'Bodensee."

The Elite Riley 'Bodensee had quite a reputation among his brethren. He was an extraordinary slacker when it came to military duty, a retailer of horrid jokes, and was Head of Human Studies aboard the cruiser the _Truth and Reconciliation_. Covenant soldiers knew his name and almost every one of the Elites despised him. He was rather scrawny, only half as muscular as the average Elite, wore nerdy, horn-rimmed glasses on account of his far-sightedness, and had an exorbitant Adam's apple. In Covenant anatomy, the bigger it is, the higher the voice you have, which is inverse that of humans. His voice was also very irritating. It was reminiscent of Jim Varney, but a little higher and less southern.

"First Amendment, 'Bodensee. Way to go," 'Repartee said with a snigger.

"Shut _up_!" the Zealot growled.

"Yes, Field Master Noga 'Putumee?" Riley answered.

"……Why are you still _here_? You _somehow_ managed to pass the warrior requirements six ages ago."

"I don't know why, but I think I hear a……BOOTY CALL for you!" Riley said loudly.

"Prophet of Mercy help me," he said, shielding his eyes with a hand and shaking his head.

"How come you joined the army? Why didn't you stay at 'the Anal Probe'? I thought strippers made good money."

"……I grew up," 'Putumee said.

"I remember my best friend took me there for my twentieth birthday and I saw—"

"—_That_ is enough,'Bodensee."

"He used to be a stripper before he joined the ranks," Riley said to the crimson-armoured Elite who stood to his left.

"SILENCE!" 'Putumee roared.

"Whatevz!" Riley sighed like a valley-girl.

"Are you going to answer me or not……_why are you here_?"

"Commander 'Scosamee said I should come and talk to you."

"_About_?"

"My motivation. He says it's not very good. And he wants to know how well I'd do in _combat mode_," Riley said, lowering his voice to its deepest point and making bomb detonation noises.

'Putumee sighed angrily. "And _what_ have you been doing for the last six ages, may I ask?"

"Um, excuse me, but……I've been on the battlefield _loads_ of times, theng ya very much."

"_No_, you have _not_."

"Well……okay, maybe nothing really _happened_ when I was there, but I've been serving nonetheless! Otherwise, I use hangovers as an excuse _or_ skip out on my duty! Easier than you would think."

'Putumee gritted his fangs and clenched his fists. Holding in his anger with a disgusted sigh, he tried to talk to Riley again.

"I do not care anymore. You are the first to spar with 'Repartee. Get going!"

Riley stepped out of line and headed for the black-armoured Elite. "'Putumee in the pahtay, look at that body, shakin' that thing like you neva did see," he sang softly as he passed him.

The irate Field Master struck him as he went by.

"_Ow_! What the duce?" Riley exclaimed as he rubbed the back of his smarting neck. He stood in front of the Marine role-playing Elite and they both assumed a hand-to-hand combat position. "How's community service?" Riley asked quietly so the Field Master wouldn't hear.

"Sucks," 'Repartee answered.

"I bet," Riley said lunging for him. 'Repartee swiftly moved out of the way, simultaneously brought his fists down on the bottom of his neck, and tripped him by kicking both ankles away. Riley then brought out _his_ secret weapon……his superior drama skills.

"Ow, ow! By the Prophets! Ow! Sweet Georgia Brown! Oh, Prophets! I think—I think you broke my ankle! Aw, man! It kills! Ow! I don't think I can walk! Someone get me the four jaws of life!"

'Putumee marched over to the lamenting Riley, who was flailing and wailing on the ground. He roughly slid his clawed fingers into the neck hole of his armour and jerked the drama queen up to his feet. Riley stopped his acting for a moment and looked down at his boots.

"It's a miracle! I can walk! Are you secretly a Forerunner……?" he asked cheekily.

"……Get out of my sight, you worthless beast!" 'Putumee said through gritted fangs. "You are no better than a _human_! And I am reporting back to your squad leader that your performance was _atrocious_."

"_Fine_! I know when I'm not _wanted_!" Riley sniffed as he turned sharply on his heels and headed to the closest exit to the training chamber. "Catch ya later, Rukta."

"Later comrade," he replied as the first Elite approached him.

"……That guy is a _dork_," one of the new Officers said.

"_That_ went over way better than I thought it would!" he said proudly to himself, dusting his hands off after the automatic door shut behind him. He looked up at a panel that showed three alien numbers. "Heavens to Betsy, I _have not_ eaten _all morning_! _That's_ probably why my performance was so poor," he told himself as he headed towards the Mess Hall. Riley was stationed on the cruiser the _Truth and Reconciliation_, although made little significance to the battalion aboard her. Grunts and Jackals normally fought each other tooth and claw to be a part of Riley's squad during military duties. This was because he didn't give them any battle-related orders whatsoever, unless you count games of "duck-duck-goose" or "who can name the most Roy Orbison songs in under one unit".

Every, "top of the morning!", "what's new?", or miscellaneous greeting he gave to his fellow Elites was promptly turned down or rewarded with a shove. This happened _every_ time he greeted them, unless it was one of the very few friends he had.

Riley entered the Mess Hall not too long after. It was full only about half capacity seeing as it was later on in the morning. He promptly got in line for food. When he arrived at the rations Elite, he was handed a long, stout tube of off-white paste.

"Thanks, 'Harlee. Workin' hard or _'Harlee_ workin'?" he asked with a chuckle.

"……Keep it moving Riley," was the answer as the frustrated blue-armoured Elite waved him away. Riley sighed out of frustration and did as he was told. He was scouting for an empty table, when he spotted one in which a few Elites he knew were sitting at. Excitedly, he advanced on them quickly.

"Well good day, gentlesangs!"

"Okay, _look_, 'Bodensee……absolutely_ no one_ wants you around. Why do you insist on bothering us _all the time_?" one angered Elite named Marvin 'Archeree questioned.

"No, no, no, wait! I've got _the best_ joke in the entire universe! Wanna hear it?" Riley asked, sidling closer to Marvin.

"You tell the same joke _every lapse_ and it proved to be quite awful the _first_ time."

"No, you don't understand. This one is _different_. I woke up out of a dead sleep to write it down. Okay, so—"

"—If this is not funny—"

"—_It's impolite to interrupt_, _Mar_-_vin_. Okay, so……there's a human soldier and a Lekgolo. The human goes 'no, no, no, don't send me across space!' and then, and then, the Lekgolo goes 'aw, shut up 'n git back in da care package, nigga!'"

Everyone looked at each other with total disgust whilst Riley threw himself on the cafeteria floor, laughing at his own bad joke.

"Wow……" Marvin drawled.

"I don' git it," the Hunter that was sitting next to Marvin said looking confused.

"……Oh that is it, I'm going to teach you a lesson about bothering senior officers, rookie!" Marvin said getting up from the table.

"No, please!" Riley said, putting his arms over his head.

"If I may, Excellency," a Grunt said, running in front of Riley and holding up his arms.

"What could _you_ possibly want, you lower-class brat?" Marvin asked crossly.

"I'm just gonna take R.B. back to his quarters. We don't want any trouble, okay? Riley didn't get any sleep last night because he was uh, helping to fend off that one um……thing that um, that is hard to defeat," Grunt Peter said.

"……_Right_! Like _'Bodensee_, of _all _warriors, would even _set foot_ on the battlefield," Marvin said.

"……We'll just go now, Excellency," Grunt Peter said pushing Riley out of the cafeteria.

"Naw _really_, I don' git it!" the Hunter said again. Marvin slammed his head down on the table.

"Oooh, fresh," Riley said to Peter on the way out. "Well, I suppose I ought to thank you for that."

"Don't mention it," Peter said.

"Why doesn't anyone appreciate my awesomocity?" Riley asked he drank his rations. They strolled down a corridor back to the rookie sleeping quarters.

"_That's_ why."

Riley cocked his head to one side in confusion.

"Yeah, see……you're too full of yourself. And……that's a bad thing," Peter said, addressing his buddy's confused stare. "Your jokes could use some work too," he said.

"_What_?! My jokes are money! _Sheer money_! Do you know how much the human army……no, the whole _universe_ would pay to_ hear_ what I come up with?!"

"Actually, to be honest, I don't think I'd pay my _attention_ for one of your jokes," Peter said.

"……_That_ was good!" Riley burst out laughing.

"No, actually, that pun was very bad."

"Whatevz! Listen, I gotta go lament about how life sucks outside, wanna come with?"

"No, I've got some thing I should be doing. I'll catch up with you later," Peter said crawling away.

"Oh-kaaaaaay," Riley answered mischievously. "……You're my rock," he then whispered.

"Yeah……" Peter said, quickening his pace.

"So like……do you think Dick van Dyke's parents named him that on purpose?" Big Pat asked of his friend.

"Good question, allow me to provide you with an answer……" Stanley replied.

"Well, well, well……look what we have here. Off to the rally, aren't we, Private Stanley?"

He was about to answer his friend with the witty remark he concocted within the last eight seconds, but they were abruptly stopped by a Schützstaffel guard. He was roughly the same height as Stanley, hovering around six feet, and wearing a red ascot along with his black uniform. The officer had medium length dirty-blonde hair that was combed over one eye and a very snotty attitude.

"Yep, I suppose so, Officer Löhmann. But hey, _you'd_ better get going. If you hustle _now_, I'm sure you could finish getting fucked by the last two hundred or so Flood soldiers before the day's out. If you do, that'll be a new Library record," he answered coolly, not worried about the guard's reactions one bit. Stanley routinely caused trouble within the Flood army and never felt any concern for have defied or thwarted high-ranking officer's plans, no matter how many beatings or punishments he had received in the process. He had even managed to employ various officers through deceitful tricks or by agreeing to sleep with them. Stanley was somewhat like the "Colonel Hogan" of the Flood.

"Yes, well……I do what I can," Officer Löhmann sneered.

"Honestly, Max, you circulate like a dollar bill. And I suppose that's, you know, pretty much what you charge."

"……I hope you understand that I have _distinct_ orders to dispose of any source of insubordination that might threaten our way of life, _Stan_," Löhmann said, placing a hand on the M6D strapped to his thigh.

"You mean threaten _your_ way of life. We were _free_ before Ivan and Jared came to power. This isn't _my_ government, this isn't what _I_ signed up for. Master Gravemind would rip your tentacles off if he knew about what you guys were doing to his people."

"The Flood had _nothing_ before Ivan came to power. We were war torn and scarred from the Forerunners before he rose up. We needed order and discipline. _Ivan_ was the only one who could give this to us. _Ivan_ made the Flood the unrelenting, fearful force it is today, and you would do well to respect and support the happy life he's given to you. If you don't……I'd _gladly_ take it away from you."

"……I feel sorry for you. You're too far gone. Are you _that_ much of a coward that you automatically listen to the man who holds up a gun and declares his supremacy?"

"Take a look around, Stanley. There are far more Brownshirts than there are UNSC Marines," Löhmann said, nodding towards Stanley's worn gray-brown armour. Their diatribe attracted the attention of a few Storm Troopers who had congregated behind the SS officer.

"Why do you think that is? I'll tell you why……it's because Ivan's method _works_, whether you fail to believe that or not. It's been almost four years now and Ivan has only given us success and growth. Look at our army, our weaponry. What have _you_ done in that time? Thought up a couple of good monologues and kept your old armour in place? Continue to display the fact that you're still shackled to your host's life?"

"At least I have the balls to keep my individuality," Stanley retorted calmly. "They're probably cleaner than yours, too."

"Well, the next time I see a soapbox, you'll be the first to know."

Stanley glared at Löhmann hard. Glancing up at portraits of Ivan and Jared that had been painted on the walls and on the ceiling, he realized that he and his friends had in fact _not_ done enough. They needed _more_ to show the Flood the tyrannical and cruel ways of their new leaders. Show them that they were doing more harm than good. If this was to be achieved, they needed to step up efforts immediately.

"……_That's_ what I thought. You're _going_ to the rally. Commander Ivan will begin shortly." With that, an ex-Elite combat form in a tan shirt seized Stanley and Pat and shoved them in the direction of the rally chamber.

"You just support him because he lets you in his pants," Stanley called out.

"If _that_ was the case, then all but two hundred combat forms would have complete control over me," Löhmann corrected, looking over his shoulder. Smiling, he turned towards the mural of the Commanders on the wall, saluted it, and followed the gang of Storm Troopers.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONCE ****(twice, three times a lady) **

**0127 Hours Ships Time, September 19, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Cruiser **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, location: We're **_**still**_** in your kitchen, **_**still **_**killing your aliens**

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'm lookin' at this monitor," Captain Jacob Keyes said to himself as he busily pressed some keys on a large panel in front of him. Ever since he received a combat concussion during the Covenant raid on Reach, he has started _ever_y sentence with an introduction. Every—single—one.

"Captain! There's a Covenant fighter, Seraph-Class, turning up on the radar," a young lieutenant named Hikowa informed him.

"My name is Captain Keyes, ha, ha……you're doin' all right son," he chuckled.

"I'm a woman……" she stated bluntly.

"My name is Captain Keyes, of course you are, son……" Keyes ignored her/him as he became more enthralled with his monitor.

"Yes, _sir_……we'll keep a sharp eye on it," (s)he replied, returning to her/his business.

"My name is Captain Keyes, you're damn right you will," Keyes answered. Looking back out the vast bridge window, he noticed a large, ring shaped world floating near the planet Threshold. The alien metal structure's gentle curvature and vast stretches of vegetation and sea bore staggering beauty and mystery.

"My name is Captain Keyes……what the oingo is _that_?" he said to Cortana, the _Pillar of Autumn's_ artificial intelligence.

"Um……haven't you heard the constant stream of 'what the hell is that?' coming from the entire bay? It's been going on for quite some time."

"My name is Captain Keyes and I stopped listening right after Velinski said 'Captain! We have a—'"

"Nobody _gets_ me!" everyone heard one of the pilots whine from the deck below Keyes's position.

"My name is Captain Keyes and don't worry son, your _mother_ still loves you! My name is Captain Keyes, but seriously, Cortana, what is that thing?"

"I honestly haven't the foggiest," she replied.

"MynameisCaptainKeyes _what_?! My name is Captain Keyes and you're supposed to know _everything_! My name is Captain Keyes, don't you dare make me get out 'VirtuaSexXx 2500', _cuz I will_," he threatened.

"Not again……" she shuddered. "VirtuaSexXx" is a computer program that allows the user to engage in virtual intercourse with any type of AI and includes a "Make-Yer-Own!" feature! It can also store up to 1.5 terabytes of pornography! This particular "2500" edition happened to be loaded with even more erotic bonuses. Available at your local futuristic "Lover's Lane" or "Spencer's Gifts"!

"Sir! Should I execute the 'Unseal the Hushed Casket' command you sent?" Sam Marcus asked over the crackling intercom.

"My name is Captain Keyes, who gave Tech Marcus the Bridge's comm. number? My name is Captain Keyes, he's on the D-List, for 'Do not let him call me'. My name is Captain Keyes, was this _your_ fault _again_, Velinski?"

Velinski answered with a particularly inept whine that masked what he was actually trying to say.

"Uh, _you_ did? He works in the cryo wing. He's rather important," Cortana answered.

"My name is Captain Keyes and oh, my bad. My name is Captain Keyes, then I think so," he apologized, sticking his pipe back in his mouth.

"All righty then," Sam said.

He stared nervously down at the panel in front of him. On it was a large blue button that said "Push Me!" He reluctantly pressed it. He wasn't sure if the fact that he _pressed_ it rather then _pushed_ it would make a difference and it caused his nerves to heighten. The huge cryo capsule in the middle of the room hissed loudly

"He's hot! Cracking the case in five!" Sam sound over the intercom.

"Yeah……he _is_ hot. Hundreds, maybe thousands of Covenant casualties slaughtered by his own hands, trained to be a professional soldier since the age of six, skilled with every single weapon the UNSC has to offer, basic training with standard issue Covenant artillery……damn. _That _is what a real man is," the other cryo specialist who joined Sam in the observation theatre said in a hushed tone. Sam slowly turned and graced the other man with a look of partial disgust.

"……What are ya lookin' at, _Marcus_?!" the cryo specialist challenged. Sam immediately averted his gaze.

Thom Shepard stood in front of the cryotube and was wearing a baseball glove, for some reason. He punched a fist into it and placed his hands on his knees.

"What are you doing?" Sam inquired via the intercom.

"It's in case he falls out! The Chief's a big boy," Thom answered.

The tube slowly opened seconds later. Inside, the Master Chief sat holding a blue Gameboy™. He was feverishly hunched over it, button-mashing like a madman.

"Hey, Chief! What's goin'—uh, Chief?" Thom questioned.

"……You bastard. You made my Charizard die."

"But sir, I don't—under—shouldn't—you were—and how did you get that in there—" Thom stuttered, trying to figure out how long the Spartan had been stable. "I'm on the last of the Elite Four, I _almost_ beat Lance the Dragonmaster."

"Well, I'm sorry but—the Captain said that you be released."

The Master Chief made no further comment as he climbed out of the cryotube. "……Where's my lady?" he asked, scanning the room.

"You're wanted in the Bridge as soon as we—"

"—I refuse to go anywhere until I find my lady," he said, looking through the cargo containers and sifting through weapon docks.

"Master Chief, dude, we—"

"—Ah-ha……_here_ you are," he said, pulling out the assault rifle he stashed behind the cryotube before he went to sleep. It was the rifle he was given on his first mission back on Reach. He referred to "her" as "Valerie".

"Remind me to hose you two down after we get done with your tests," Thom said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. The Master Chief winced but his outward appearance gave no hint that he was thoroughly objective to the idea. Thom was approaching him and was only two feet away when a massive explosion echoed through the cryo bay.

The first blast slammed into the observation theatre door, causing Sam to jump.

"……Later!" the other specialist said, high-tailing it out of the theatre via the opposite door. It shut, the beacon pulsing red.

"……God dammit," Sam sighed. His heart pounded as he quickly slammed the controls, engaging the emergency lockout. It sounded like a heavy ram battering the strong metal door.

Of course, by "heavy battering ram", that _really_ meant about six Minor Elites with a giant tree trunk battering the door with unremitting force.

"Keep it coming, _Unggoy_! We _do not_ have all day!" an Elite with crimson armour ordered as he stood a feet few away from the wrecking crew.

"Would it not be a more constructive plan if we just used our energy weapons, Excellency?" a Minor inquired.

"Hm……I like your thinking, there might be hope for you yet," the higher-ranking Elite said thoughtfully. The Minor did the "yes!" arm gesture.

Sam panicked as the door began to glow red as Covenant energy weapons burned their way through.

"Oh mah gawd! They're trying to get through the door! They're-they're burning their way through! I'm peeing my pants!" he shrieked, climbing up against a panel lining the back wall. He glanced down at the bay and noticed Thom changing from one frightened expression to another after intervals of about three seconds. The Master Chief could do nothing but stand and watch in anger.

Sam lunged for the alarm and had time to call an alert. Then, the security door exploded in a shower of shrapnel and metal fragments. He heard obnoxious, cackling laughter as a group of seven Elites stormed into the room. Sam heard the whine of plasma rifle fire and felt someone punch him in the chest. The wind was abruptly knocked out of him as he crashed to the deck. He felt disoriented, confused. He saw a flurry of movement as the armoured figures swarmed in, spreading out and shoving each other. A variety of names, curses, and "your daddy is _so_ fat" jokes volleyed back and forth. Trying to regain his breath, he struggled to reach for the discarded photo of his wife. Sam's fingers had just brushed the photo when an armoured boot pinned his wrist to the deck.

"Well, well, well……look what we have got here, brothers," a tall, sinewy Elite in crimson armour said as they congregated in the middle of the observation theatre. "What is the matter, son? Was the heat a little too intense for you?" the Elite said mockingly as he stared down Sam. The other aliens began laughing. _This is so stupid_, Sam thought.

"If you cannot stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!" the formidable alien continued to scoff. Sam felt even more miserable as he realized that was the same comment that Thom always made. Looking down to the cryo bay, he heard Thom yell as the Master Chief hurried to grab him and slap a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"Oh? What do we have here?" the alien axed, plucking the picture from the floor. He cocked his head in puzzlement as he brought it closer to his face. A blue-armoured Elite jumped him and grabbed the photo.

"Hey! Look at this!" he said, seizing one of his buddies by the shoulder and thrusting the photo in his face.

"……What in the name of the holy rings?" he replied.

"Is this what you _do_ on Earth?" the first Minor asked. The group broke out in hysterical laughter. Sam cursed painfully and continued to reach for the picture.

"I want it……" he said weakly, gasping for breath.

"I will give it to you, but first……knock, knock," the crimson armoured Elite said, holding something behind his back as he held the picture above his head. His hand touched the ceiling.

"……Who's there?" Sam gasped.

"DEATH!" the Elite roared as he aimed his plasma rifle at the Tech's head.

That was the last image he would ever look at, and frankly, Sam was bummed that he didn't get to see his whole life flash before his eyes.

The Master Chief bristled. Covenant forces were here and they were teasing a fellow soldier, just like he had watched the other children do on Reach when he was younger. He wanted more than anything to climb to the observation bay and engage the enemy—but he felt the Cryo Tech yanking on his arm, like a small child who wants you to follow him does.

"Come _oooooon_!" he said in an annoying voice. "We gotta _goooooo_!"

The Spartan followed the crewman through the automatic door and down the corridor. Thom was just about to pass through the next passage, when a sudden explosion blew the following airlock to next Tuesday and hurled Thom's body down the passageway past the Chief's head. He doubled back, tripped over a pair of power conduits, and landed in the dimly lit maintenance hallway beyond. A crewman stood still, trying to hold in his laughter.

"……I meant to do that," Master Chief told him arrogantly as he hurried down the corridor.

An emergency beacon strobed and a quick, menacing beep rang out through the corridors. The rumble of a second explosion echoed down the corridor. He pushed ahead, past another crewman who was lying on his back and muttering, "Red Rum" to himself repeatedly, and into the next hallway.

The Master Chief saw a hatch, the security panel pulsing green, and hurried forward. There was a third explosion, but his armour deflected the force of the blast. The Spartan forced open the partially melted door, saw an opening to his left, and heard someone scream. A naval crewman fired wildly at a target that the Master Chief couldn't see. He did, however, hear a deep voice roar as the deck shuddered from another missile as it struck the _Autumn's_ hull.

He ducked under a half-raised door just in time to see the crewman take an energy bolt through the face as the rest of the human counter-boarders returned fire. Covenant forces were backed through a hatch and were forced to retreat into an adjoining compartment as an emergency lockout door sealed itself slowly. Feeling a little like a civilian for not reloading "Valerie" before he went into cryo, the Master Chief had little to do but follow the signs and avoid the firefights that raged all around. He made his way down a darkened access corridor. He prayed to the spirit of Helen Keller for aide in finding his way through safely without any trouble. The patron saint of the blind helped deliver him to a well-lit corridor without a Covenant ambush or tripping over any obstacle.

The Chief headed down the dim corridors until he came upon some more wimpy Techs trying to head off another fire-team as a Marine watched them from the side, ridiculing them and making no effort to help. The Marine approached the Chief as soon as the emergency doors shut.

"Sir! Captain Keyes wants to see you on the Bridge ASAP! Better follow me!" he said with a distinct accent, again, yanking on his arm in an indication to follow.

"What _is_ _it_ with you people?" the Master Chief asked, jerking his arm back. "I know where the Bridge is, thank you."

The Marine returned the decline with an utterly distraught expression. "W-wh-_what_?" he answered, as if "no" was the least expected answer. After that, he began breathing heavily and repeating, "I'm so stupid!" to himself quietly as he let his assault rifle drop to the floor.

"……Well……I'm going to go now," the Chief said, pointing to a hatch with an indicator stamped with a star and an arrow that read "Brideg". The Chief noted that it was incorrectly spelled. The Marine elevated his voice level, continued to repeat the same phrase, and ran off in the opposite direction.

"Wow……I sure picked a bad day to stop smokin'," he heard a Naval crewman laugh.

"You smoke?" Another inquired.

"Yeah," the first answered.

There was a small moment of silence and then the second crewman decked the first. The Chief watched as the second crewman pummled the snot out of the first. He also noticed the second had black "X's" on his hands and was yelled, "Courage Crew!" with every punch issued.

Shaking his head, he continued forth, however……in order to get to the Bridge, one must pass through the "Three Trials of Combat". The first was an armoury filled with empty weapons as well as wounded and dead soldiers. The ultimate mental stability test. The second was a firefight in which you are forced to watch a team of frightened naval personnel be thoroughly murdered by the Covenant as an emergency lock-out door takes its sweet-ass time in closing. The last trial is making your way through a second firefight, without a loaded weapon, between the UNSC Marine Corps and a squad of Elites armed with plasma weapons. The ultimate trial testing endurance, courage, and self-control. The things that come out of the Marine's mouths sometimes make you want to smack them off of steep-drop offs with your weapon. The Master Chief passed all of the trials with flying colours and was rewarded with the entrance to the Bridge.

The Bridge was all hustle and bustle as he stepped through the archway. Crewmen and women were scampering about as the faint emergency beacon still sounded throughout the ship. Captain Keyes was still standing erectly in front of his panel.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I like the twenty sixth century tribute band to 'the Beach Boys'," he chuckled, turning the radio up louder.

"Captain Keyes," the Master Chief said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'm _so_ glad to see you, Chief!" he said, whipping around and holding his arms out to the Spartan warrior.

"Wow……_now_ I remember why I stay in that capsule," he said to himself as he was violently but lovingly hugged by the Captain.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I need you to help us fight the Covenant forces……again."

The Master Chief squirmed out of Keyes's grasp.

"My name is Captain Keyes and this war won't be won quickly, so we'll have to stay focused……man, I love that 'Little Old Lady from Pasadena'. My name is Captain Keyes, ha, ha, go granny go……" he drawled.

Master Chief groaned as he looked disdainfully at a large sign stuck into an asteroid that read "Welcome to Outer-SpizZace!" He was quickly thrown off guard when another explosion rocked the entire ship. He grabbed onto a control panel and braced himself. Captain Keyes yelled as he landed on a pile of crewmen who had been tossed out of their seats.

"Hot damn!" a crewman who was still standing said as he got a running start and leaped onto the pile as well.

"My name is Captain Keyes, ow……" he said. "My name is Captain Keyes, Cortana, what just happened?"

"Gee……I wonder," she answered sarcastically.

"I _think_ that we got hit with another missile or something," a Techie from the dog pile said matter-of-factly.

"—And we have a winner," Cortana replied.

"Score! Class of '544!" he yelled.

The fire control officer held up an index finger and spoke. "Fire control for the main cannon is off-line. It has spent 0103 hours online, which will be billed to its account."

"Captain, the cannon was my last defensive option," she stated.

"My name is Captain Keyes, all right then……._if the cannon is going to act like a princess, we'll just have to do something else_," he said aloud, as if the cannon was _actually_ listening. "My name is Captain Keyes and I guess we'll just have to initiate……dare I say it……Cole Protocol, Article Two. My name is Captain Keyes……we're abandoning the _Autumn_. My name is Captain Keyes and that means you too, Cortana."

"While you do _what_? Go down with the ship?"

"My name is Captain Keyes and in a matter of speaking……"

"You're not a hero, Keyes, you're _not_," she said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'm going to land the _Autumn_ on that ring thing _I_ found."

Cortana shook her head. "You are so senile ……" she said quietly.

His eyes locked with hers. "My name is Captain Keyes gee, _thanks_ _Cortana_! My name is Captain Keyes, but the Protocol, it's God. My name is Captain Keyes, the destruction or capture of shipboard AI is unacceptable. My name is Captain Keyes, so that means _you're_ abandoning ship as well. My name is Captain Keyes, lock in a selection of emergency landing zones, upload them to my neural lace, and get ready for a hard transfer."

"_Yeah_, Cortana. That transfer is _so hard_. It's such a _hard_ transfer," Ensign William Lovell said, turning around in his chair.

The AI paused and then nodded as Keyes took a moment to chase the Ensign around the center panel of the Bridge. "Aye, aye, sir," she answered.

"My name is Captain Keyes and this is where _you_ come in, Chief," he said as he gave up on the Ensign, who was _still _running, and turning to the Spartan. "My name is Captain Keyes, get—wait—where the hell is my pipe?! My—"

A Techie held it out to him.

"—My name is Captain Keyes, thank JesusGodAllah!" he said, snatching it out of the Tech's hand and placing it back in his mouth. "My name is Captain Keyes—where was I……oh yeah—get Cortana off of this ship. My name is Captain Keyes and if the aliums, ahem, _aliens_ capture her, they'll learn everything: Force deployment, weapons research……the _exact_ location of Jaleel White's body."

The Spartan nodded. "I understand."

Keyes glanced at Cortana. "My name is Captain Keyes……are you ready for a thrill?"

There was a pause as the AI gave Keyes one last look of scorn. "……Please don't—never mind. Yank me."

"That's what _he_ said!" Lovell said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and dammit, Lovell, if I hear _one more_ sex joke outta you—" he threatened. Keyes turned to a console while grumbling to himself, touched a series of panels, and turned around quickly with debonair-like flair. "My name is Captain Keyes, oh wait, that looked _so_ cool! My name is Captain Keyes, I'm gonna do it again, watch this time!" he said as he turned his back again and then whipped around with a determined expression about his mug.

"……Uh, sir?" the Master Chief inquired.

"My name is Captain Keyes, no really, here you go," he said as he handed him the data chip. "My name is Captain Keyes, good luck soldier."

SPARTAN-117 took the chip and inserted it into a slot in his neural lace. There was a positive click and a flood of sensation that caused him to sound like he was having an orgasm.

"Hm……your architecture isn't much different from the _Autumn's_," Cortana said.

"Don't get any funny ideas," he said quietly. "Wait……are you saying I'm _fat_?"

"My name is Captain Keyes and I uh, _don't_ keep it loaded……you'll have to find ammo, son," he said with a cheeky wink as he handed the Chief an M6D pistol.

"One last note, sir. You _do_ realize that all the indicators to the Bridge are spelled wrong, right?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, oh yeah, I'm on top of that."

"……Why? If I may ask?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, see……the guys who came out to finish painting the interior of the ship back on Reach all died when the Covenant attacked, so, we had to hire guys from 'Dyslexicon Painters'."

"Why did you hire a company full of dyslexic painters?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, they were the cheapest."

"……Okay, I'll buy that." With that, the Master Chief saluted and turned to leave the Bridge.

"My name is Captain Keyes, get going Chief, there's……nothing more you can do here," he said, faking a subtle sob. The Spartan looked over his shoulder at the Captain, who was leaning over on Cortana's console, shook his head, cocked the pistol, and left the Bridge.

The sounds of fighting were even louder now, indicating that, in spite of the crew's best efforts, the Covenant had still managed to push their way through adjacent to the air locks and make it all the way up to the area surrounding the command deck. He heard strange, high-pitched squeaks and barks and shook his head violently.

"Whoa……Cortana, am I still wired on the wake-up stims, or do you hear Chief Mendez's racing greyhounds?"

"Those aren't greyhounds, sir," Cortana assured.

Consistent with his status as the leader, the first alien to come around the corner wore red-trimmed armour and a Marine's infantry vest. The alien took every five seconds to remind his comrades that he was "King of the School". Confident that more of the aliens were bound to appear, he waited until more of them came into view and then opened fire. All three of the Grunts went down from headshots.

"No……_I'm_ the 'King of the School'," the Master Chief said as he stepped over their bodies and moved on. The Master Chief heard a variety of battle cries and otherwise random comments, some of which were remotely funny, but mostly stupid, as he came closer to the sound of a raging firefight. He had also acquired some ammo for "Valerie". Thus reassured, the Master Chief reloaded a fresh clip into the rifle and pressed on. He sat back and watched the scene unfold. Three Elites and a scattering of Marines were fighting head-to-head in the close quarters of the cafeteria. There were still some scraps left from breakfast and both sides took heavy advantage of this.

"Eat continental death, humans!" an Elite barked as he whipped a plate containing a cinnamon roll, two strips of bacon, and two eggs at an unsuspecting soldier. It hit him directly in the face.

"Ah! Hot but scarcely provided goodness!" he hollered, collapsing as yolk particles splashed his vest and he took a cinnamon roll to the face. Its sheer velocity combined with the ungodly time it was sitting in the breakfast module caused it to knock a few teeth out.

"Man down! Man down!" another Marine shouted. He dragged his buddy behind the shelter of a food module and tried to comfort him.

"It's gonna be okay, man! We'll get you outta here soon, man!" he said.

"No……I don't think I can make it. I'm allergic to cinnamon……" the wounded soldier answered.

The man never stood a chance.

Not wanting to deal with scraping bits of omelette or juice pulp from his armour, he decided to sit this one out. He moved onward once the battle died out.

"We're closer," Cortana said someplace from just outside his head. "Duck through the hatch ahead and go up one level."

The Spartan was just about to do so, when he ran into a shiny, black-clad Elite.

"_Watch_ where you are _going_! You will scuff my armour," he said, his voice ringing with arrogance.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he answered sarcastically. They had both turned around when they stopped and exclaimed, "wait a minute!"

The Spartan opened fire first. There were confused Grunts in the area as well, but it was obvious that the Elite posed the _real_ threat. He expertly sprayed a trio of bursts at the alien.

The Elite roared in defiance and fired in return, but the sheer volume of the especially hardened 7.62mm rounds caused the Elite's shields to flare and drop. The bulky alien's head jerked as if he suffered from a bout of whiplash and collapsed. Frightened by what had happened to their leader, the Grunts barked and began to scurry away, tripping over one another.

Individually, Grunts were nancies, but they could overcome in packs. He opened fire again and alien bodies tumbled through the air.

He continued through the hatch, heard more firing, and turned in the corresponding direction. Cortana called out, "Covenant! On the landing above us!"

He ran toward a flight of stairs and charged straight for the landing. Boots rang on metal as he slammed a fresh magazine into his weapon and passed a wounded Marine. He held a dressing to a plasma burn and managed to smile. "Welcome to the party, Chief……we left you some cake."

The Spartan continued to climb up the flight of stairs and came nearly helmet-to-helmet with another Elite. The alien roared, charged forward, and attempted to use his plasma rifle as a "beatin' stick". The Master Chief side-stepped and evaded the blow. He'd fought Elites hand-to-hand before and knew they were dangerously strong, so he backed away. He leveled "Valerie" at the Elite's vulnerable abdomen and squeezed the trigger. The Covenant soldier seemed to absorb the bullets like a sponge, continued to advance, and was about to swing again when a final round cut through his spinal cord. The alien soldier slammed to the deck, twitched once, hollered, "Rosebud!" and died.

SPARTAN-117 reached for another magazine, when he heard yet _another_ Elite roar, as did _another_. "I guess it's just one of those days……" he said to himself.

There was no time to reload, so the Master Chief turned to take them on. He slung "Valerie" over his shoulder and grabbed his sidearm, which he had dubbed "Colonel Bisquick". There was a pair of dead Marines at the feet of the aliens about twenty five metres away. _Well within range_, he though and opened fire. The pistol was indeed loaded, only to half capacity, but it would most definitely do.

The lead Elite snarled as the beastly handgun rounds tore through the shielding around his head. Finally sensing the Spartan's threat, the aliens shifted their fire into his direction only to watch in horror as it dissipated against his MJOLNIR shields.

Now, free to direct their fire whenever they choose, the remaining Marines launched a hastily organized counterattack. A fragmentation grenade blew one Elite into bloody pieces, engulfed a Grunt who had the poor judgment to stand next to him, and sent bits of shrapnel flying into one of the bulkheads.

The other Elite looked around wildly. "Aw, spit," he said as a hail of bullets poured from the human rifles.

"Now _that_'_s_ what I'm talkin' about!" a Marine said as he ran over to the fallen Elite and fired a few dozen rounds into his head.

"Hey, _hey_! Hanson! Give it a rest, okay?" another soldier said to his crazed buddy.

Satisfied that the area was reasonably secure, the Master Chief moved on once more. He passed through another hatch, took on a group of Grunts lead by two Elites, and marched down a corridor drenched with blood, human and Covenant alike. The deck shook as the _Autumn_ took another hit from a ship-to-ship missile. He could see two bursts of light as two lifeboats hurried away from the cruiser.

"The lifeboats are launching," Cortana announced. "We should hurry!"

"What are you, my mom? I _am_ hurrying," the Master Chief growled.

"In a matter of speaking," she answered.

If there was one thing that the Chief wanted more than anything right now, it was a Jäger bomb……or several Jäger bombs at that. He figured it was okay to say that out loud, seeing as the "Courage Crewman" wasn't around.

Among all of the alien hoopla and the Master Chief P4WN4G3, the _Autumn's_ supply of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, or ODST, or maybe even "Helljumpers", were having problems of their own. They had been assigned mainly to guard the ship's power plant, a system of fusion generators.

There had been human casualties as well as the massive amount of Covenant that they had taken care of, naturally, including Lieutenant Melissa McKay, but she was only half of a casualty because she just got an arm wound and she's acting like it's the end of the world. She waited impatiently for Dr. "Kool" Valdez, the platoon's medic, to bandage her arm.

"Got some bad news for you, Loot," the medic said. "The tattoo on your—"

"—Wait! You mean the one with the Grunt getting spanked by Clint Eastwood?" she said quietly, apparently not wanting anyone to hear.

"Um……_what_? No, the one with the skull and the letters 'ODST'."

"Oh……well, carry on, Val," she said, relieved.

"……You can get a new one, but, the tissy-yoo probably won't take the ink in quite the same way, _if_ you know what I mean."

The medic secured the bandage in place and the officer rolled her shirt sleeve down over it. "You know what, Valdez—"

"—I'm truly full of it?"

"……No. You're going nowhere in life, kid," she said as she stood up and dusted herself off.

"Well, then……can I see it?"

"That's what _she_ said!" Ensign Lovell announced as he appeared, holding an M6D pistol.

"What are _you_ doing here? Get lost!" McKay ordered. He ran off laughing maniacally. "What, now?"

"The tattoo."

"No," she stated as she rolled her sleeve down. The medic placed his hands over his eyes without any emotion or excess movement.

"All right you God-loathing, alien-killing, devildogs!" Major Antonio Silva boomed as he strode out onto the catwalk. His voice sounded similar to the antagonist mailman from "Olive the Other Reindeer", which is one of the most B.A.M.F. Christmas themed movies around.

"Listen up! Play time is over. Captain Keyes is tired of our—"

"—Shake your tushy on the catwalk!" one Helljumper yelled. Everyone began laughing, except Silva, whose face turned a brilliant red.

"Someone take that man's name!" he yelled. Everyone stopped the merriment at once. "Okay……Captain Keyes is tired of our company and wants us to leave this tub. There's a construct down there complete with an atmosphere, gravity, and the one thing that Marines love like beer—and that's dirt beneath our feet. Most of the crew—not to mention your fellow jarheads—will be leaving the ship in lifeboats. They'll ride to the surface in air-conditioned comfort, sipping wine, and—"

"—I have my doubts about that, Major Silva, sir," a Marine who was feeling particularly lucky that day commented.

"……Did you seriously just interrupt me right now?" Silva inquired.

"Um—"

"—_Did you_ _seriously_ feel the need to interrupt me right now?"

"Well……yeah, I-I guess so," the leatherneck answered with a shrug.

Silva was silent for a moment. "No rations. One day."

"_What_?!" the soldier said loudly, with an angered sigh.

"—_Not you_, however. Oh no, you'll be leaving the _Pillar of Autumn_ by a different method. Tell me boys and girls……how will _you_ leave?"

It was an ODST ritual, and a frightfully cliché one at that, but the Marines roared in unison with pride. "WE GO FEET FIRST, SIR!" Naturally, the ritual was always screwed up somehow by the few who were always one second late to finish the sentence.

"Damned right you do!" Silva barked. "Now, let's get to those drop pods. The Covenant is holding a picnic and every single one of you are invited. You have five minutes to strap in, hook up, and shove a cork in your ass."

It was an old joke, and for reasons unknown, they thought it was the funniest thing in the galaxy.

"……That joke doesn't make any sense!" the same soldier called out, figuring he really _did _have nothing more to lose.

The deck jumped as the _Pillar of Autumn_ absorbed yet another blow and the battle continued to rage within. The Master Chief was closer now and prepared to sprint for a lifeboat. That was when Cortana said, "behind you!" and he felt a plasma bolt him squarely in the back.

He whirled around to face his attacker and saw that a Grunt had dropped out of an overhead maintenance tunnel, because the ventilation Techies like to pretend they're "mole-people" and hang out inside of them. They also routinely forgot to close them. The diminutive alien stood with his feet planted on the deck, plasma pistol overheating in his claws. The Master Chief took three steps forward and knocked the creature flat with one blunt from "Valerie". He heard a high-pitched and bothersome voice yell, "defensive maneuver Number Three G!" and a trio of Grunts immediately landed on his back.

It was kinda fun. Until the part where they tried to remove his helmet.

Then it wasn't fun.

One of the beasts held an ignited plasma grenade.

Then it _really_ wasn't fun.

"_Not_ gonna happen," he said as he shook himself like a dog and the aliens went flying. He used well-controlled bursts to put them out of their misery. He turned to the lifeboats. The Spartan entered, just as the doors were about to close. A nearby Marine fell on his way to the pod and gave a pathetic cry of anguish as he went down.

"I'm finished! It's over! I'm just done!" he wailed, even as the Spartan paused long enough to grab the back of his uniform and toss him into the boat. Once inside, he joined the small group of soldiers on their way to leave the severely abused ship.

"_Now_ would be _a very good time_ to leave!" Cortana commented harshly as everyone felt and heard something else explode in the ship.

The Master Chief stood facing the hatch and waited for a red light signaling that it had closed and locked. "Punch it," he said as it blinked on.

"Aye, aye, Chief," the pilot said as she triggered the launch sequence and the lifeboat blasted free of the _Autumn_. The boat skimmed along the massive cruiser at a dizzying speed. Plasma blasts from the Covenant warship slammed into the _Autumn's_ hull. In seconds, the lifeboat dropped away from the cruiser and dove towards the ring.

The Master Chief killed the internal com. system and spoke directly toward Cortana. "So, any idea what this thing is?"

"No," Cortana admitted. "I managed to slice some data from the Covenant battle network. They call it 'Halo'. My guess is it has some sort of deep religious meaning towards them."

"Halo," he repeated. He imaged a pair of Elites in business suits approaching their lifeboat when it landed and asking them if they had, "heard the good news". "Looks like we're going to be calling it 'home' for a while."

The lifeboat was silent. There were no shouts of jubilance, no elaborate high-fives, and _definitely_ no party favours. The insubordinate ODST was right, they had _no_ champagne in the lifeboat and no hors d'evours.

One Marine said, "this duty station really sucks."

"_You_ really suck," one of his buddies said as he writhed in his seat and kicked him in the shins.

The vast Index Library chamber was teaming with infection forms, carriers, and Flood combat forms, human and Covenant alike. Almost everyone was talking, arguing, or roughhousing at the same time, causing the room to be abuzz with conversations about everything and anything, but mostly nothing. The focal point of the chamber was the tall podium that stood near the entrance on a raised platform that used to be a viewing theatre. The Commanders had the glass punched out to use it as their stage. A few feet from the podium sat roughly thirty Schützstaffeln bodyguards and the entire War Department. They were occupying three sections of tier seating, the back row higher than the other, and split into three different sections, with the SS in the middle. Both human and Covenant weapons rest in their laps, in case anyone got out of line. Behind them was a vibrantly painted mural with their seal, an uppercase "F" bordered by an inverted one to its left and tilted a little to the right in an insignia they called the "effstika". It was surrounded by a wreath of thorns grasped in the talons of a two-headed eagle wearing two crowns. On either side of that hung the totalitarian-fascist Flood flag. Maroon with the effstika in the center. All combat forms were required to wear maroon armbands with the same effstika insignia on the flag.

Welcome to the joys of Flood propaganda rallies……

Ivan tugged at his beige overcoat as he approached the podium, handing his cap to Captain Anderson. The two rows of officials and Schützstaffeln immediately rose from their seats and erected their left arms in salutation. The Storm Troopers immediately cheered for him, lifting their left arms as they hollered their shibboleth, "Sieg Flood!" repeatedly. After dusting off his sleeves, flipping one self-appointed medal over, and adjusting the buzz saw shaped pendant in place of a tie, Ivan deemed himself orderly. He held up his left arm, but didn't outstretch it as he nodded towards the chamber. Everyone immediately placed their arms at their sides and stood tall. All noise whatsoever ceased. No one said anything. There wasn't even one of those cliché coughs two seconds after the silence begins.

It was eerie as hell.

"Thank you," Ivan said with a devious smile. He immediately dropped his joy and punched his left arm out in front of him. "Sieg Flood!" he hollered. The whole body of infected soldiers roared in unison as they repeated, "Sieg Flood!" once more and a wave of arms reached out.

"At ease," Ivan said. All of the arms went down at the same time.

"……Firstly, I would like to take a moment to welcome all of my Flood brothers. I hope you all understand the importance of attendance and the severity of punishment for disobedience……"

The crowd was corralled by a ring of SS members who took the liberty of cocking or readying their motley crew of rifles as a threat.

"……For too long have we been prisoners. Tens of thousands of years ago, those filthy _Forerunners_ trapped us and concealed us into these……these……'Halos' in which to 'protect the universe from the ever-growing threat' that is……the Flood. These steel rings have been anything but 'holy'. They are only detention centers from which there is no escape, no freedom, and no justice!"

The entire body of combat forms almost leaned forward to listen in better.

"For more than one hundred thousand years have we lain starved, cold, and discarded by the galaxy. _Who_ do those foul 'aliens' think they _are_? Deciding who will live and who will die? _Who are they to play God_?! I, like many of you, have seen the horrors they have inflicted upon us. _I_ am a soldier as well and _I_ was there when they advanced and threw us into this grave."

Ivan loved to talk with his hands, especially when public speaking. He was constantly knocking something off of a desk or hitting someone while discussing plans with Jared in their quarters or making idle with Field Marshals and Schützstaffeln in the Library. Some of his favourite gestures were pounding on the podium with a gloved fist, raising his fist in the air, using both hands to illustrate the horizon, and a variety of pointing, always blaming everyone else because _nothing_ is _ever_ the leader's fault.

"_I _say that_ enough is enough_! For _too long_ has the Flood been treated like second-class citizens……the low man on the totem pole……the race to lick the boots of the others. This galaxy promises freedom to all planets and the right to life……and what have the Forerunners done? Taken that right away from us! _I_ say that it is time for a change. _I_ say it is time for a new uprising. The Forerunners planned to take the galaxy from the Flood……and they succeeded. Their success was _only_ given to them because our society was broken and chaotic. Ringsführer Gravemind told us that our victory would be won with chaos and discord……but he was _wrong_. Strict discipline, order, ans stark obedience will _guarantee_ the Flood victory and I speak for all who are present when I say that the Flood _will receive ultimate victory_ as a result from the coming Deluge of the planets. We have the best weaponry, the best soldiers, and the most fool-proof plan to take back what so rightfully belongs to us. _We_ are the ultimate race! _We_ have what we need to survive! _We_ shall wipe the galaxy clean of the scourge it holds! _Every single planet_ is _weak_ and _subflood_! The final plan for 'the Great Deluge' is almost complete and upon its completion, there will be a blossoming of a new age. An age run _only by the Flood_! The Forerunners have tried their luck……now _everyone_ must pay their debt!"

Stanley, who was near the doors at the rear of the chamber, rolled his good eye.

"Oh my God……this is _so_ ludicrous," he commented with a sympathetic chuckle.

"Shhh, _Stanley_! Yer gonna get us in trouble!" Big Pat hissed.

"Please, Pat, what are they—" Stan was violently hit squarely between the shoulders with the butt of an assault rifle, which caused him to lurch forward and run into an ex-Elite Brownshirt.

"I'munna cut you, Stanley!" he whispered angrily, whipping around to face him.

"_Hey_! You parasites better _shut up_, or you'll meet me at the _other_ end next time!" the SS officer grunted as he pointed his rifle at Stanley.

There was a massive cheer as the army agreed with their leader. They chanted, "Sieg Flood!" again and raised their arms. Ivan stood back for a moment and readjusted his uniform. He smiled as he took a glance at his right, where the main members of his War Department stood. All wore bright smiles and Captain Anderson patted one of his Commander's shoulders. He took his place behind the podium once more and continued to speak.

"The galaxy will rue the day it chose to mistreat and underestimate the Flood! The humans, Covenant, and whoever else attempts to stand in the way will kneel in pieces before the awesome might of our infectious tidal wave!" Ivan shouted emotionally.

Another massive cheer arose. It was immediately followed by the chanting of, "Sieg Flood!"

"Stick with us and I personally guarantee that _every single Flood_ right down to the Ivan Youth will trample over _every single bit_ of sentient life in this universe! You will beat down anyone that stands in your way! You will batter the front lines of _alien_ oppression! You will wipe clean the universe of all who are impure! _You and your Commanders will rule all_! Our enemies are _weak_! Since they have denied _us_ freedom, it is _our_ duty to snatch it from all other life forms, dangle it in front of their noses, and _never_ return it! Sieg Flood! _Sieg Flood_!"

Never had there been such a riot of jubilance as the chamber surged with soldiers brainwashed into false happiness and hysteria. Everywhere caps were tossed into the air and arms extended in full salute to their leaders. As Ivan watched the scene, he kept his arm out and his features firm. Jared nodded in approval as he stood behind his counterpart.

"Oh, one last thing," Ivan said. Everyone immediately silenced again. "Our Captain of the Schützstaffeln has an announcement for an upcoming event he'd like to make, so, I'll hand over the floor to Captain Anderson."

The yoasty Captain stepped up to the podium as Ivan backed away.

"Thank you, Commander Ivan. Um, the Schützstaffeln will be selling flowers as a fund-raiser starting tomorrow. If you happen to pass by any of your black-coated officers, be sure to inquire, we've got a great selection of many different kinds of exotic plant life grown and picked right here on Halo. We use no outside resources or seeds or any other kinds of things and they range anywhere from six to fifteen dollars a flat. We also accept weapons, personal checks, and money orders. And, like I said, this will take effect tomorrow and one hundred percent of the proceeds will go towards the establishment of a more powerful Schützstaffeln to better protect our gallant Commanders."

Officer 'Magee placed a seven-foot cardboard diagram of a thermometer with less than a quarter of it filled next to Captain Anderson.

"As you can see, we have barely scratched the surface on our goal of one hundred thousand members. We currently only have four hundred members and would very much enjoy having this goal reached before we leave the ring. Planets are big and we need all the help we can to provide a long and safe life for our leaders. Also, if you're interested in _joining_ the Schützstaffeln, please feel free to approach me or any other officer and ask about recruitment. I uh, think that's about it……flower sales, recruitment……yep, that's all. Thank you," Anderson concluded as he stepped off of the podium and saluted the Commanders. Anderson was also a good public speaker, annunciating clearly and making few mistakes, however, he was still only half that of Ivan, who had by now taken his place at the podium once more.

"Thank you, Anderson. Sieg Flood!" Ivan shouted one last time. The whole body of soldiers saluted and barked back, as usual. Adjusting his pendant again, Ivan left his podium, snatched his cap back from Captain Anderson, and exited through the door stage right. Both tyrants were escorted by their SS to the lift to the first level of the Library. Not one of the soldiers spoke until everyone was inside the lift and descending. Then, Ivan and Jared exchanged glances and broke out into hysterical laughter.

"Why are soldiers _so easy_ to brainwash?!" Ivan asked through gales of laughter as he leaned up against Jared.

"That's just it! _They're sroldiers_! _It's their jrob_ to trake orders from anyone with a grun and a medral!" Jared answered, one hand on Ivan's shoulder for support. A few of the SS began chuckling as well.

It took a good few minutes for them to stop laughing and regain a smidgeon of composure.

"Ah, this universal takeover will be finished in record time at this rate," Ivan said, wiping his good eye.

"Oh, _absrolutely_. Your charismra skrills are unmratched, my friend," Jared said, weak from laughter.

"Come now, it's _you_ who radiates formidable power," Ivan retorted.

"Oh strop," Jared said. "……That went a lot fraster than I throught. How abrout a grame of chess when we gret brack trew our quarters?" Jared asked,

"Very well, however, I have a 'meeting' with Officer Löhmann and Sergeant Reinhardt," the other tyrant agreed as he put an arm around the brawny Flood. Sergeant Reinhardt grinned.

"Yes……_of course_," Jared said with a frustrated and slightly disgusted tone of voice.


	3. Chapter 2

**(The)**** CHAPTER ****(formerly known as)**** TWO**

**Deployment+00 hours: 03 minutes: 24 seconds (Major Silva Mission Clock)/ Command HEV, in combat drop to surface of Halo.**

Like every hardened, ass-kissing, protocol worshipping UNSC officer, combined with his natural hunger to the be the best at everything the Corps threw at him, Major Silva's HEV accelerated at a break-neck speed so he could be the first on the surface of the ring world. Antonio Silva was more or less equivalent to the irritating overachiever that sits next to you in class or the brown-noser at your bleak office job.

Aside from all the negative aspects of his actions, he also needed to touch ground first for immediate troop organization and to ladle out orders to his top people. Everything in the first minutes of the mission would dictate whether or not the emergency land on the new world would prove a successful move. These minutes were especially precious, seeing as the Marines had no prior Intel briefings, environmental preparations, or breakfast. Only the Navy Techs had the time to eat that particular morning. The soldiers were even more confused than they normally were and relatively hungry. Silva's command pod was also outfitted with more high-tech gear than the normal drop pods, including the Class C military AI required to operate it.

The particular intelligence had been fitted with a male persona and the name 'Ellsley—after the famous Duke of Ellington—as well as outstanding virtual music skills. Though he was a great deal less intelligent, capable, and maternally obnoxious than Cortana, the only capabilities 'Ellsley had were focused on things of military grounds or early twentieth century jazz music, which made him useful in a situation like this, if somewhat narrow-minded.

The only drawback to the command pods was that in order to install the more high-tech gear and equipment, the safety restraints had to be removed to make room. A rather unfortunate circumstance and Silva cursed the under-paid manufacturers on Earth for lacking the required knowledge to safe-guard leaders like himself. The gee-force of the falling craft caused it to shake violently and flip end over end. Silva grunted as the interior temperature rose to ninety eight degrees and he continuously bounced off of the pod's enclosed quarters.

"So," 'Ellsley said to the Major via ear buds, "I do believe the venue over there, tagged HS2604, should be well suited for your boys to play in. Perhaps you'd like to call it 'Black Beauty', after the piece I wrote in 1928?"

"Thanks," Silva answered, his head smacking the top of the HEV as it inverted once more, "but no thanks. First of all: _You_ didn't write that piece, Duke Ellington did. Second: There were no computers during the Roaring Twenties. Third: There are only two black people in this armada, and neither of them are in my squad. The designator 'Alpha Base' will do just fine."

The AI sighed irately. "_Fine_. If _you _insist. As I was saying, the venue is located on top of that butte." An image of the formation the AI was referring to shone into place in front of Silva's face.

"Stop calling it a venue," Silva added with much frustration.

The Major had to limit his amount of orders to 'Ellsley, for the strong jerking of the HEV jarred his body as the chute slid open and billowed as he entered the ring's atmosphere. The siding of the pod began to slough off with a loud _whooshing_ sound. 'Ellsley sent out a homing beacon to the other ODST pods as to make linking up an easier task. All of the others had presumably received the signal……all except for Private Marie Postly.

The trip was going rather well for her, having the ability to enjoy the luxury of safety restraints that Major Silva lacked. Everything was wine and dine for Postly, until the time came for her main chute to open and carry her on a relatively safe trip down to the surface. Most unfortunately, the main chute refused to open. She heard a clunk as a red emergency strobe began to flash and the text on the panel near the ceiling of the pod read "You Gon' Die : ". Private Postly remembered all of the drag races she had seen with her father in her youth and pondered on the irony of the whole thing as she screamed on freq two. Major Silva took the liberty of cutting her off and distracting the other ODST with a poor rendition of "Singin' in the Rain" from his "Godly Showtunes" soundtrack he used to raise the morale of his men. This was the kind of death that all the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers feared, but dare not speak of. It was one of those incidents that people just didn't talk about.

Letting the song reel about halfway and realizing that his men were comforted enough, Silva took another look at the butte. It was a fairly nice piece of spinach, had a wide view of the surrounding area and tall cliffs on either side would ensure ascension a chore to attackers. "Excellent……excellent," Silva said to himself.

"There is one little problem, though," 'Ellsley commented.

"What?!" Silva was forced to shout as the last layer of HEV skin tore away loudly.

"The Covenant own this venue and if you want it, you'll have to buy it from them," 'Ellsley pointed out.

"_Stop_ calling it a venue," Silva said again.

**Deployment+00 hours: 02 minutes: 51 seconds**

**(SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock)/ Lifeboat Foxtrot Lima Alpha 43, in emergency descent to surface of Halo.**

The Master Chief watched the ring world appear more clearly as the pilot guided the lifeboat down underneath the troposphere. As the construct began to come into view more clearly, he could see mountains, hills, and plains that curved upward and eventually out of focus as his enhanced eyes followed the massive ring's shape. The sight was beautiful, strange, and disorientating all at the same time. The Marines pressed themselves against the view port window, quarrelling like grade school children, as a variety of "ooohs" and "ahs" erupted from the group.

The sightseeing halted as the ground came up to meet the lifeboat. The Master Chief couldn't tell whether or not they were taking enemy fire, the engine was failing, or the lifeboat was _also_ acting like a princess……but it didn't seem to matter in the end, the result was going to be the same.

The pilot had time to yell, "ah! No brakes!", and a moment later, the hull bounced off of something solid. Everyone was knocked off of their feet. Marines flew backward, screaming, and the Spartan felt pain shoot through his temples as his helmet slammed against a bulkhead on his way to the floor—followed by a swirling vortex of pain and colours, almost like a miniature acid trip……a prime example of why you should keep your damn safety belts on.

"Chief……Chief……can you hear me?!" Cortana's voice echoed in his head.

The Spartan opened his eyes and found himself staring at the light panels overhead. Some aftermath from the swirling colours was still present.

"I like the purple one……" he said, pointing at something imaginary.

"Okay, good," Cortana said, reassured.

"Geez, no need to shout," he said a moment later, sitting up.

"At last……can you move?"

The Master Chief struggled to his feet and was about to retort, when he noticed the bodies. The crash tore the boat open and tossed out the unprotected soldiers because they were stupid enough to get up from their restraints to look out the windows.

He ran outside, knelt among the wreckage and bloodstained grass and looked towards the sky. He was still a little dumbfounded from the crash.

"Damn you, Halo! _Why_?!" he yelled.

"The others……there's nothing we can do—um……I'd hate to break up this melancholy eulogy, but, I've detected multiple Covenant dropships on approach. I suggest moving into those hills. If we're lucky, the Covenant will believe everyone else died in the crash."

The Chief slowly took to his feet, gathered up as much ammo, grenades, and supplies as he could carry, and followed her advice. "Acknowledged," he said, checking the pins on a quartet of grenades.

Cortana's plan made sense. He checked the area for possible threats and moved towards the hills. There was a large, steel bridge between him and the area beyond. The span was devoid of safety railings. Beneath the bridge, a strong current provided by a thundering waterfall a few meters away rushed down a drop-off. Large outcroppings of weather-tarnished rock rose on all sides and a spatter of conifers reminded him of the forests he'd trained in back on Reach. He fought his moment of nostalgia when he heard a deep voice.

"Hey!" it said. The Master Chief raised his weapon and looked around. "Hey you, breakfast bistro!" it continued.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"You, up there!"

Tilting his head in confusion, he looked over the side of the bridge and saw an Elite in crimson armour hanging on to the side. His hopeful expression instantly changed to a determined one as he pointed to the Spartan.

"There is a toll for crossing my bridge—whoa!" he said, gripping the side of the bridge with his free hand nervously.

"What kind of toll?" the Master Chief said, not taking the alien seriously.

"You have to help me up."

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"……I have been hanging here for about……" the Elite paused and looked thoughtful, "about one and half cycles. My arms are _really_ tired."

"……Okay, I'll help you up."

"Really?" the Elite said with a smile.

The Spartan lifted a metal boot and stomped on the Elite's hands. He winced and let go, screaming as he fell.

"Syke," he said to himself as he watched the alien tumble down to his demise.

"Alert! Covenant dropship inbound," he heard Cortana say.

The prophecy was nigh as the shadow floated over the far end of the bridge where he had just been and the ship's engines rumbled a warning.

He took advantage of the large boulder to his left……not in _that_ sense. He circled around the boulder and wedged himself between it and the rocky cliffs. He checked his motion sensor and realized that a couple of Banshees were practically on top of him.

Combined with the air support, the Grunts and Elites that dropped from the forked boat posed a serious threat. He steadied his rifle and sighted the nearest Banshee. Careful not to fire too early, he took aim, waited for it to spot him, and squeezed the trigger of his MA5B. The first ship came straight for him, making it an easy shot. Bullets ricocheted off of the purple aircraft's hull as his ammo counter began to drop steadily.

The ship began spewing black smoke as the last of the bullets from his clip impounded themselves into the alien metal. The second ship swooped out of the sun and scalded his boulder with plasma fire. His shields dropped and the alarm whined on his helmet speakers. He had used up the last of his magazine and slammed a fresh one into the receiver.

He crouched and scanned the sky for targets, catching sight of Banshee number one, its trail of smoke difficult to miss. He allowed it to approach, waited a few, and squeezed the trigger again. The Covenant ship ran smack into the stream of bullets and exploded into a shower of flames as it screamed over the Chief's head and collided with the massive cliff. The second ship, however, was still up there, flying around in circles……_menacingly_. But other than stand around and watch it, he took note of the several red dots that appeared on his motion sensor. He waited for his shields to recharge and then jumped up on top of the boulder. A quick look around informed him that a squad of Grunts from the dropship were examining his lifeboat on the other side of the bridge. But that wasn't all. They were accompanied by two Elites.

He wished he had an S2 AM Sniper Rifle, but you can't always get what you want, so he pulled out the M6D pistol Captain Keyes gave him. He turned to the group by the lifeboat and moved the targeting circle over the nearest Grunt. Twelve shots rang out and seven Grunts fell.

Satisfied that he was secure from a possible Grunt ambush, he rammed a fresh clip into the sidearm and turned to the robust Elites. The pistol shots came quickly as the bullets pounded the shielded warriors.

When all of the targets had been eliminated, he reloaded the handgun, clicked on the safety, and returned the weapon to its holster. He jumped off of the rock and crouched underneath another. He eyed the Banshee still circling above. It was out of range and waiting for him to emerge from his hiding place.

The Spartan had never been one for standing around, so he brought out his assault rifle and slid over the rock "Dukes of Hazzard" style. He raced for a small copse of conifers. He counted to three and then dashed from boulder to boulder. He leapfrogged uphill, still keeping a watchful eye on the Banshee.

There were no enemies in view or on his motion tracker until he came to the top of the hill. He eased forward, waiting for the attack. Instead of attacking, he saw the Banshee hook a right and fly off into the distance, rounding the corner of the cliff and disappearing.

He turned his attention back to the clearing. Four Grunts were jumping up and down like losers every few seconds and a blue-armoured Elite was taking dirty to, and presumably making out with, one of the conifers. There was some significance to their armour colour and he guessed that blue meant desperate rookie, seeing as they always fought like desperate rookies, and this guy was _clearly_ a desperate rookie. As he watched the scene more carefully, he began to feel _very_ sorry for the abused tree. A grim expression of sympathy touched the Master Chief's face as he emerged from his spot and crossed through the clearing. He stood for a second behind the Elite and witnessed up close what the lonely alien was doing.

He couldn't take anymore. He just _had_ to put the alien out of his lonely misery and rescue the tree. The Master Chief slammed the base of the Elite's neck with "Valerie". He screamed as he toppled into the conifer. His threat indicator sounded a warning as he felt something hot sting at his lower back and a red arrow pointed to his right. He drew and primed an M9 HE-DP grenade.

He turned in time to see another Elite—this one wearing scarlet armour—let out a deep, guttural laugh and charge him. "Wort, wort, wort!" he said mockingly.

With the grenade already in hand and the distance was sufficient enough, he tossed it at the alien. The Elite caught it like a kid catching a baseball who's never played sports in his life. Turning his head and looking at what he actually caught, he yelled and tossed it back at the Chief. The Spartan, although confused, immediately tossed it back. The Elite caught it again and returned it. The Chief growled and aimed it at the Elite's boots. Before the enemy could do anything more, it detonated.

Noticing that their leaders lay dead at the intimidating super-soldier's feet, the Grunts exchanged glances, screamed, and took off the opposite way. The Master Chief cut their daring escape short with a trio of bursts. After hearing the silence of dead enemies, he took time to reflect on the tranquility of the moment.

"Ah……the sound of alien death," he said to himself.

He pushed his way up the hill, through a meadow covered in thick, knee-high, spiky grass. He could hear the all too familiar chatter of automatic weapons as he fought the urge to prance around while singing "the Sound of Music". He sprinted, excited that he wouldn't be on his own anymore and able to seize the battle opportunity. He felt a trickle of frustration, though, because he was too worried about being seen and judged imitating Maria.

**Deployment+ 00 hours: 05 minutes: 08 seconds (Captain "Florida" Keyes **

**Mission Clock)/ Lifeboat Kilo Tango Victor 17, in emergency descent to **

**surface of Halo. **

**(Oh you kids :') )**

**( we 3 u Capn Keyes!)**

Maybe it was because the _Autumn's_ navigator, Ensign Lovell, was at the controls, or maybe it was because Captain Keyes had his lucky "Punisher" wristband on that the rest of the trip down to Halo's surface was uneventful. So uneventful, that Keyes gave thanks to the spirit of the "Punisher".

"Where do ya want her?" Lovell asked as the lifeboat skimmed along the grassy plain.

"My name is Captain Keyes and anywhere is good, son……just as long as there aren't any aliens or fan girls around. My name is Captain Keyes, stick it anywhere," he answered.

"That's what _she_ said……" Lovell laughed quietly as he turned to the arbitrary "west" at a point where the grasslands met a series of rolling hills.

"My name is Captain Keyes _what did I tell you about that_?!" he screamed.

"How _woodju_ _feel_ if you had _no_ action at all in your life!" he whined, removing an alligator skin flask from his belt buckle, watching the Captain out of the corner of his eye until he focused on something else. He slowly unscrewed the top and took a hastened swig from it when Keyes wasn't looking. However, Keyes could hear the mechanics of a flask from a mile away. I guess you could say it was a gift. He instantly towered over Lovell in his pilot seat.

"My name is Captain Keyes, are you drinking _and_ driving, Ensign?" he demanded.

"Tch……_no_! You're asleep and this is all a baaaaaad dream," he said, swiftly wedging it behind his back and moving his hands in a mystical gesture.

The Captain wasn't buying into it. He snatched the container from the Ensign. "My name is Captain Keyes, you know I never sleep! My name is Captain Keyes and _maybe next time_, you'll be more _responsible_……"

He took a quick glance to his left and right to make sure no one was watching and drained the rest of the flask. It had been filled with Jim Beam whiskey and he approved.

Lovell was a troubled person, though. Ever since his fourth cat, Lancelot, died……things were just never quite the same. He had been on his way to a dishonourable discharge on acts of insubordination, gross incompetence, _not_ sharing his elephantine stash of pornography, _and_ sporting a pompadour instead of the standard Navy crew cut. Lovell had been a rockabilly monster before Captain Keyes picked him up off of his feet and sculpted him into the man he his today……right this second……right now……which is, needles to say, barely any different. But, by law, rockabilly monsters are _not _allowed to join the Navy. Future law will dictate this, so all you cats and chicks get your sick kicks in while freedom rings.

"My name is Captain Keyes……that was a smooth ride," he said.

"A-heh that'swhatshesaid ahem," Lovell faked a cough.

"My name is Captain Keyes, okay boys and girls, let's strip this puppy and see what kinda goodies we can salvage. My name is Captain Keyes, Corporal, post your Marines as sentries……Wang, Dowski, Abiad, open up those storage containers. My name is Captain Keyes, let's see what brand of champagne the UNSC keeps in its lifeboats, but make sure Lovell doesn't get any. My name is Captain Keyes, Hikowa, make yourself useful, son!" he instructed.

Hikowa clenched her/his fists, but simmered down a bit. "Relax, Cindy……karma," she said to herself.

Everyone went about to their assigned tasks and once they were clear of the lifeboat, they heard another Techie exclaim, "hey! Where'd the champagne go?" The crew exchanged bewildered glances with one another as they heard the sound of something smacking metal. The group turned to the cargo hold and noticed a silver-armoured Elite stagger out of it. He was holding a bottle of champagne.

"Hey! This stuff ain't half bad! Woooooo! We are gonna P-R-T-I-E-Y!" he hollered, tipping the bottle back and taking a large swill. He stumbled over to Lovell and threw his arm around him, nearly knocking the rockabilly monster over with the sheer drunken strength he possessed.

"This guy right 'ere……I a-love this guy, _I a-love 'im_! You 'n me, buddy, you 'n me 'genst the world!" the Elite drawled. Lovell looked over to Captain Keyes and mouthed, "help, much?"

He tipped the rest of the bottle back and managed to do it so violently that he fell over backwards.

"My name is Captain Keyes, what the hell?" he said.

"What are we gonna do about him?" Dowski inquired.

"My name is Captain Keyes, and—" he said, dragging the Elite's prone form to a crevice near the side of the lifeboat and dumping it in. "—My name is Captain Keyes, no one will ever have to know……"

When all was shipshape, the _Autumn's_ crew headed up the hill. They hadn't gone far when a sonic boom rolled over the land and the _Pillar of Autumn_ roared across the sky.

"My name is Captain Keyes, TAKE COVER!" he yelled, grabbing Lovell and Hikowa and throwing them both to the ground. Everyone else watched with great disturbance. He looked up a minute later, checking to see if the coast was clear.

"My name is Captain Keyes, don't worry boys……you're safe now," he said, pulling Lovell to his feet and dusting his uniform off. He waited for a second. He, like all COs, had neural implants linking him to his ship and everything involved with it, kind of like this weird brotherhood thing. There was a pause, followed by what felt like a mild Earth tremour, and a message from Cortana's subroutine scrolled across his vision (brought to you by "the Government's Secret Neural Laces for senior officers"! Lace 'em up and you're ready to go!):

**CSR-1: : Burst Broadcast : :**

**Pillar of Autumn**** is down. Those Systems which are still functional are on standby. Operational readiness stands at 8.7. **

**CSR-1 out.**

It wasn't the sort of message than any commanding officer wanted to receive by any means. Messages came to him often, but not necessarily the same one. Things like:

**CSR-1: : Burst Broadcast: :**

**Breakfast is ready. Commence eating. **

**CSR-1 out.**

And:

**IDK-1: : Burst Broadcast: :**

**You have this anthrax now. Now you die. Are you scared? Death to America.**

**IDK-1 out.**

Even though he was deeply saddened by the fact that the _Autumn_ would never glide through space again, he took comfort in the fact that she could still be put to some use, like being used to make glue, and that some day, he might use that glue when trying to get his daughter to make macaroni art with him……his _twenty-five_ year old daughter.

He smiled at this thought. "My name is Captain Keyes, what are we waiting for? My name is Captain Keyes, our cave awaits……last one up digs the latrine."

"Ha, ha, you mean 'Wang'!" Abiad said, sprinting ahead. One of his favourite past-times was making fun of Wang for his last name.

"_No_!" Wang hollered, chasing after him.

Covenant Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee debated with the Prophet's assistant Bako 'Ikaporamee. The two sat at a small card table, a heated Covenant card game going, and sharing a cigarette in a long, violet cigarette holder.

"Do you feel comfortable?" 'Ikaporamee asked.

"……_Actually_, no. Normally, I would take you up on an offer like this, seeing as my partner was wounded and shipped home, but—" 'Fulsamee responded.

"—What? No, I was _talking_ about _warriors_. Are you comfortable with the status of the warriors stationed on this cruiser and on the holy ring?"

"Oh……then, yes, yes I feel most assured that our ranks are plentiful and highly capable," 'Fulsamee corrected.

"Well, I speak for the Prophet and we have a few—"

"—Why bring this up now and ruin my good mood? Ugh, never mind, I am depressed anyway," he groaned, tapping the cigarette over an ashtray.

"It is merely—um……well, there are a few soldiers we are……_concerned with_."

"Well, _obviously_……the Sangheili are the only capable warriors the Covenant is fortunate enough to have."

"No, no……I am ashamed to admit that there are indeed _Sangheili_ we are concerned with."

"……Example?"

"Well……take Riley 'Bodensee for example."

"The Minor?"

"Unless there is another warrior by that name, _yes_, the Minor Officer."

"Hm……"

"I mean, he is a complete _lunatic_. Not to mention _the worst_ comedian in the universe. Not only are his social skills slim to none, he is one of those Sangheili rebels who uses _contractions_."

"_No_!" 'Fulsamee said.

"I am afraid so……which brings me to the real point I am trying to make. I understand that he is currently Head of Human Studies, however……I can't help but think that during the time he has served in the military and on this cruiser, he has become……how shall I put this……_too_ attached to his work."

"Too attached? He is the Head of Human Studies……that should be a good thing. It means he is _actually_ _worth_ something to the Covenant's glorious armed forces. I have heard reports that he is completely and utterly worthless on the battlefield."

"Yes, I realize this. I mean, it is apparent that even _before_ he was assigned the duty of obtaining information about the enemy, he was very……very—"

"—Crazy. Officer 'Bodensee is absolutely, positively _crazy_."

"_I_ would use a more civilized word, like impaired."

"You _would_ say something like that……" 'Fulsamee sneered.

"_Anyway_……true, he _is_ mentally instable and a great deal less incapable then any of the Sangheili in the army. Ship Master……I advise that you take the necessary actions to strip him of his rank. I speak for the Prophet and _he_ believes that the Covenant Intel has more than enough information about the humans and we _cannot_ afford to have even the slightest blemish in our ranks."

"He is not cut out for army life……very well. I shall consider _the Prophet's_ suggestion," 'Fulsamee grunted, trying to rub out a scratch on his golden armour and shooting the assistant a haughty glare.

"Do you know……I even caught him conversing with the lower classes. That is just _foul_, do you agree?"

"About as foul as your father……"

"What is it with commanding officers and parent-bashing?" 'Ikaporamee asked angrily.

"Hold your tongue. I think we should pay 'Bodensee a visit, do you concur?" 'Fulsamee suggested cheekily, leaning over the table.

"Oh yes, yes indeed." 'Ikaporamee chuckled. "Damnation, he was _totally_ going for it," he then said quietly to himself, lagging behind his commanding officer and smudging out the cigarette.

Riley 'Bodensee had, for the record, decided on moving his lamenting to a later date and thought it better to hang out with some of his Grunt buddies. Normally, such activity was not coveted among Elites, but in Riley's case, they were the only friends he managed to get. He sat at the rookie barrack monitor, quickly punching away at the transparent keys while Grunts Ernest and Oliver read an outdated _Aquaman_ comic book and played with Cat's-Cradle string.

"Riley?" Ernest asked.

"Yeeeeees?" he said severely stretching his word and adding a crescendo.

"Do you ever get questioned about hanging out with us?"

"Aw, no way. Don't worry about it, buddy. It's _all_ good," he said, ending with a bout of medium speed, staccato, machine-gun laughter, one in which you could hear ever single "heh". _Another_ reason why the Sangheili avoided Riley. He had one of the most annoying laughs ever in the Elite eye……and he laughed _a lot_……for no reason in particular most of the time.

"I'm just worried about you," Ernest said, flipping a page in Riley's comic book.

"Hey! I got another message from my aunt!" Riley said in an excited tone.

"Do you think _we'll_ get in trouble for hanging out with Riley?" Oliver asked, messing up what should have been a "Jacob's Ladder".

"I don't know—"

"—By the Prophets! BytheProphetsbytheProphetsbytheProphets! It's a video clip!" Riley said waving his hands.

"No one likes our company. I sometimes wonder if we're even, you know, cared about—" Ernest pointed out.

"—Holy Toledo! Look at this cat! It's paw is like, tied to the cord of a ceiling fan!" Riley continued.

"……_Aquaman_ sucks," Oliver commented.

"—No fudge-covered way! How can it stay there that long?! Isn't that animal abuse?! That's incredible!" Riley said through copious amounts of machine-gun laughter and succumbing to joyous convulsions in his chair.

"No he doesn't! He's an amazing protector of weak and downtroddened marine animals!" Ernest replied.

"Yes, he _does_. What are his powers? Talking to fish and swimming really well? Please, _that's_ no superhero," Oliver said.

'Fulsamee gallantly appeared as the doors to the third wing of sleeping quarters slid open. Not surprisingly, the only occupants were Riley and the two Grunts. He entered slowly and quietly, 'Ikaporamee close at his heels. Breaking the silence by kicking both Grunts out of the way, 'Fulsamee tapped Riley on the shoulder.

"Hang on, you'll get it in a moment, I'm almost done," he said, brushing off 'Fulsamee's hand.

'Fulsamee glared and all out slugged him.

"Ow! Are you deaf, I said—_ooooooh snap_……" Riley said, looking up and finally realizing who was doing the tapping.

"I did not interrupt you, did I?" 'Fulsamee asked with mock humour.

"A-heh……_about_ that—" Riley said.

"—_You_ will be coming with _me_……" he growled at Riley.

"……Will you first watch this totally sweet video my auntie sent me?" Riley asked innocently.

"……No," was the reply from the irate Ship Master. Riley was uncomfortably hauled to the _Truth and Reconciliation's _Council Chamber for one agitating interrogation.

"What do you guys wanna do now?" Big Pat asked his friends. They were sitting in a circle in a far corner in one of the hundreds of rooms inside the Flood base, which had been once used as another facility for the Forerunners to study and perform gross experiments and vivisection on the Flood. Vivisection is wrong on _all _creatures and on _many_ different levels, even the Flood.

"Search me," Stanley replied with a shrug.

"Dangerous" Dan let out a gleeful yell.

"Hey, Pat!" he heard someone shout and turned his head in the direction it echoed from.

It was Nigel Flood. He was also an ex-Covenant-form Flood. They were touch-and-go friends. Some days they talked, other days Pat was getting kicked in the rear by him. Nigel was one who liked to keep up appearance for his "friends".

"Lookin' for somethin' to do?" Nigel asked.

"Sorta……"

"Well, it's your guys's turn to wash Papa Flood," he proclaimed.

"_What_?! _No_! We _just_ did it!" Pat answered, standing up.

"Dogshit! _Everyone's_ done it except for _you_!"

"Well then, why don't they make all the carriers do it?"

"_Because_! They're all on disability! They can't do _anything_."

Dan was now on his side and failing around on the ground.

"See?" Nigel pointed out. "Now hop to it."

"Nuh-uh!" Pat argued.

"Ya-huh! Now go do it, man. Don't be so irresponsible," Nigel muttered, storming away.

Pat gave a frustrated sigh. "_Fine_! I guess _that's_ what we'll be doing this afternoon."

The three headed off to Papa Flood's corridor. He was, you guessed it, father to all Floods on the ring and stayed with the Commanders under "close supervision". He was supposed to be a brain-drain Flood, but looked more like an old, infected man in a wheelchair with severe osteoporosis. He was famous for never remembering anyone or their names and lapsing on memories of how an olde tyme friend cheated in a game of Mahjongg years ago, and anyone's guess is that there _never even was_ a Flood Mahjongg match years ago.

"Papa Flood! It's me, Patrick!" he bellowed upon entry to the Commander's quarters.

"Wha?! Who's there?! Arnold, go see who it is!" Papa Flood said, quite flustered. Ivan, or in this case "Arnold", sighed with resentment as he looked up from his Chess game and peered at the door.

"Ugh, it's the flambroyant one, Pratrick," Jared sneered to himself, moving a bishop.

"I can't control the joy surging through me……" Ivan sarcastically remarked.

"I don't know anyone named Richard, but McIntire cheated sixty years ago!" Papa Flood proclaimed, shaking a fist weakly.

"PATRICK, SIR, NOT RICHARD," Ivan annunciated.

"Afternoon, Papa Flood," Patrick said, stopping in front of him.

"Go away! We don't want any!" was the ever-so-loving answer.

"Um, we're here to give you a bath," Patrick said.

"Oh, goody!" Papa Flood said clapping his hands.

"All right then," Patrick said grabbed the handles on his wheelchair.

"Help! Help! I'm being stolen! Get away you ungrateful cads!" Papa Flood wailed, jerking around in his chair as the three wheeled him off.

Ivan kept his eyes focused on the door Big Pat, Stanley, and Papa Flood entered. Jared moved from their games and proceeded to scan a table that harboured a huge map of the ring. Most of it was covered with green tacks. The remaining areas were of blue or white.

"……I noticed that our friends Stanley and Patrick are _still_ not wearing Storm Trooper uniforms," Ivan observed.

"Negatrive," Jared answered, reloading his shotgun with bullets from his harness and holding it up to eye level.

"And why _not_?"

"Psh, did you get a _look_ at them. They're not crut out for a jrob such as that. Pratrick crouldn't fire a rifle trew save his life……and Private Stranley……well, he grets in more troubrul than the entire army prut togrether," Jared scoffed, now polishing his rifle.

"Hm, yes……I happen to know the Private Stanley is the go-to man when it comes to attempts to organize _against_ us," Ivan asked, looking intrigued. "He's been beat and scolded by the Schützstaffeln more than any other soldier."

"Then _why_ havren't we cracked drown on his prunishmrents?" Jared inquired.

"Oh, don't worry, Jared. You'll see why……just as soon as we get off of this ring, you'll see why," Ivan snickered devilishly to himself. "I've got something _in store_ for our pal Stanley."

"Oh, I'm nrot _worried_ abrout it," Jared said. "Besrides, he and his little bruddies are nothring agrenst a strom of Schrootzstroffel."

"……Against a storm of _what_?" Ivan asked, trying to conceal his laughter.

"A strom of Schrootzstroffel, you know, our brodygrards?" Jared answered patiently.

"No, I know what they are, it's just……good lord, man! I'm-I'm so sorry, Jared! It's just—" Ivan burst out laughing. The SS soldiers in the quarters nudged each other and began laughing too, feeling that if one of their leaders could do it, so could they.

"……Crocky srons of britches," Jared said, cocking his rifle and holding it up to firing position, pointing it at Ivan's back, who had by now, also rose from his seat on the opposite side of the chessboard.

"Oh, God dammit……I'm sorry, no really, I am," Ivan said, trying to regain his composure. Jared lowered the shotgun as soon as Ivan turned around.

"_Ow_! You hooligans got soap in my eye!"

"Oh, _quiet_, old man."

Both officers heard Papa Flood and Stanley skirmishing in the back room. Moments later, Papa Flood rolled himself out of the back room, grumbling to himself and still wearing his towel.

"Boy, _that_ was a chore," Pat said shaking his head.

"I'd rather baby-sit children with ADHD," Stanley said, drying himself off.

"Albert! Hermann! One of you punish those hooligans!" Papa Flood said to the two Commanders.

"Oh, I do believe we'll do _better_ than that," Ivan chuckled devilishly. "But first, I think it's time you took a nap," he instructed. "Jared! Take care of it!"

Jared kicked Papa Flood into another room farther back than the others and the automatic door slammed shut.

"Okay, so, um……we're gonna go now?" Pat asked hopefully.

"_Don't_ get ahead of yourselves. Jared and I need a moment of your time. I know it will break into your busy schedule but—"

"—Oh, actually, we weren't doing anything today—"

"—Boy, for not having a working mouth, you sure have a lot to say, don't you?!" Stanley whispered bitterly to Pat.

"What?! I—"

"—_It has been brought to my attention_ that you three _still _aren't carrying out with your duty as Storm Troopers. Correct me if I am wrong," Ivan said, pacing back and forth in front of Pat, Stanley, and Dan, who was busy spinning around in a circle slowly where he stood.

"Well—"

"—Actually—" Stanley cut off Big Pat, "—we _have_ been. We fuckin' hate the Forerunners, the Covenant, the works. Nothin' makes you feel more alive than a tree adorn with the bodies of enemy soldiers or a concentration camp full of malnourished aliens, right? Am I right?"

"……Stanley, who are you trying to kid? I know that you cause more trouble than the entire Flood body put together."

"……For once, I'll actually have to _agree_ with you, Commander. Also, you might want to take into consideration the fact that we're conscientious objectors," Stanley admitted. Ivan favoured both of them with a glare that was anything but happy. If looks could kill, they would have all dropped dead years ago. Jared obviously wasn't amused either. Just by the stiff, slightly hunched over way he was standing could indicate that he wasn't a happy Flood.

"Trew hell with cronshentious objerectors!" Jared spat. That being said, Ivan turned around to face Jared, they spent a minute or two conversing. Stanley and Pat couldn't hear why they were saying, but they knew it wasn't going to be a good outcome. "Dangerous" Dan was totally oblivious to the current situation.

Stanley looked over his shoulder and noticed a file of Schützstaffeln officers talking amongst themselves as they watched the three. He also noticed Löhmann was one of the officers. He wasn't whispering with the others, but he had an evil smirk on his face and mouthed, "now you're gonna get it".

"If you haven't noticed, no doves fly over the lair of the Flood, only hawks. In light of recent events and rumours, it has come to this……" Ivan said facing them. "You will _all_ be put on frontline duty as of tomorrow. I expect you all to be ready in the late evening. We expect _fatalities_ from your work, _not slacking off_……" he instructed ever so harshly. "Captain Anderson tells me he never sees any of you at drill practice. I also expect you to spend some time with him in the morning."

"I bet he also tells you 'he'll lick your balls for another promotion'," Stanley said to himself.

"Anderson _also_ tells me that you use the time to masturbate in the corner of the adjoining room, so there will be no _jacking off_, either.""

"Is _nothing_ sacred anymore?" Stan asked, rolling his eye.

"……Do you know what happens to soldiers who _don't_ do their duty?" Ivan said with a hint of sensuality.

Big Pat whimpered and hid behind Stanley.

"……_This_ sounds kinky," Stanley said with a grin.

"How's _this_ for 'krinky'?" Jared asked, pointing his shotgun at Stanley's chest.

"I said 'kinky' not 'krinky', sir," Stanley said, staring at the heavy gun.

"……Touché, Private," Ivan giggled. "You've just earned yourself a few more points of respect out of me."

"……_Get out of our sright_," Jared growled as he pointed to the door. Pat and Stanley hastily sauntered out of the room, dragging Dan with them.

Two SS guards made sure they exited and the tall automatic doors shut behind them. Pat slid down a wall and sat on the ground just outside the door. Stanley sat down next to him.

"Stupid Ivan……stupid Jared…….stupid everything," Pat grumbled to himself.

"They're on to our protest. Oh well, I guess when you protest against a juggernaut of a fascist government, this is bound to happen at one point," Stanley explained.

"—Why does he even _want_ to put us on frontline Brownshirt duty innyway? That seems like a waste of time," Pat said.

"True, this place has been pretty dead ever since the last drop in," Stanley admitted.

"What do you think being a Storm Trooper is like?" Pat asked.

"Do you know what being a robot or an obedience training graduate dog feels like?"

"……Wull, no."

"Well, it feels just like that."

"……I dunno Stanley. Maybe we should just go along with this."

Stanley stared at his friend grimly. "So, you're telling me you _want_ to become a tool for the system, stand with your back straight all day, and get royally fucked by Ivan whenever he's hungry?"

"Wull—"

"—_No_. I'm deciding for you. When I asked you to be my life partner, _we both_ agreed to fight this thing even if it kills us."

"I don' remember the 'kills us' part……"

"C'mon, you and I are like the Scholl kids."

"Can I be Sophie?" Pat interrupted.

"Be whoever you damn well want, that's what being fascist-free is all about. But, if you succumb to Ivan and Jared's Reich of Terror, you _can't_ be Sophie. You'll be whoever _they say_ you are."

Big Pat gasped in horror.

"That's right! Still considering supporting them?"

"……If it means I won't be able to be who I want, _no_—_way_."

"Excellent, I'm glad we see eye-to-eye. We've kept it up for a pretty long time. We should continue to gather support. I'll think of some witty way to weasel out of Storm Trooping. Maybe if I tempt a few Field Marshals, they'll let us off."

"You wanna repeat that?" Big Pat growled, standing up.

"I was kidding, Pat, relax."

Big Pat pretended to glare at his significant other and turned to leave the hall.

"Poor kid……thought I lost him there for a second," Stanley said shaking his head.

"Dangerous" Dan answered with a Flood noise.

"Hey, Stan," he heard a voice as he looked at the shadow that suddenly covered himself and Dan.

"Hey Fritz, how's—oh no," Stanley addressed the other human Flood with much disappointment. "……_What_ are you doing to yourself?" he demanded.

"Oh, um, well……" Fritz tried to think of the best excuse possible. He was dressed in a black Schützstaffel uniform and was wearing a maroon armband with the effstika. "Yeah um, _about_ that……it's kind of a funny story—"

"—All I know is I better completely bust a gut," Stanley said furiously. "C'_mon_, Fritz! You _swore_ to be against Forerunner racism and galaxy conquest! You took the oath, dammit!"

"Hey now! I talked to some of the other guys and they sent me to over to Anderson and well, he explained all the benefits of being on the Schützstaffeln. I get dental now," Fritz explained.

"Did Anderson _touch you_ while explaining 'how much fun you'd have if you joined'?" Stanley inquired, unimpressed.

"Uhhhhhh……" Fritz answered, averting his eyes and stalling the syllable as long as he could.

"And you're gonna tell me you're leaving even after we made you shove the Sniper Rifle up your ass?"

"……Oh, it wasn't as bad as you said it would be."

"You had to get the _whole thing_ in there! That Sniper Rifle has been in _many_ asses, but _only_ those who are worthy and keep their oaths. You're soiling the good name of resistance!"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda, resistance, it's not gonna work, Stan, let's be frank. But, um, I wanna thank you for last night when you—"

Stanley slapped a hand over his friend's mouth and quickly scanned the hall. He noticed Big Pat was standing in the large archway where they had entered and was getting thoroughly chewed out by Captain Anderson.

"_Don't_ say _anything_ around Patrick," he said quietly, letting go of Fritz's face.

"Oh…….right, sorry. P.S. You'd look good in a brown uniform. It would bring out your eye," he answered.

Stanley replied with a mocking false laugh.

"Hey, Captain Anderson! Can I try?" Fritz asked jubilantly, eager to try out his new authority.

After torturing his "favourite" Private for _unassigned_ tasks that he _didn't_ perform and tutoring the new recruit on how to verbally abuse your soldiers, Captain Anderson finished his morning patrol and sauntered lazily back through a series of dank corridors until he arrived at an automatic door at the end of the hall where the Commander's quarters sat. Upon entrance, he noticed all of the usual suspects were present, as were a few of the lower-ranked SS bodyguards, all of which were asleep.

They always conjugated in their "lounge", so to speak, after their routine morning assignments. Hearing the old and thoroughly used door open, the others greeted him the normal way by saluting in bored and careless fashions, because neither of the Commanders had been present. Ringsminister Speekeasie didn't even look up from his current writing project: His autobiography entitled _One Hundred Thousand Years of Solitude_.

"Heil Ivan," they all said in unison.

"Yeah, yeah, heil Jared, you guys finish the coffee?" Anderson inquired.

"Nope," Ringsmarschal Hindenburg answered, falling into the grotesque sofa in the center of the room, the array of homemade war medals that covered his barrel chest clanking simultaneously as he sat. The sofa was a disgusting shade of a green, losing stuffing, and covered in discoloured stains from years of spilled food on the former UNSC ship. All of the items and "luxuries" the Flood had had been looted from ships. Anderson poured himself a cup of space-coffee and chose a seat next to Hindenburg.

"Any trouble today, Fats Domino?" he asked the other Flood.

"If you don't cease the fat jokes, Anderson, I'll eat you," he answered threateningly as he patted his ample stomach. If there was one thing the Flood loved almost as much as Commander Jared's speech impediment, it was Ringsmarschal Hindenburg "fat" jokes, of which Captain Anderson was the connoisseur. Much of his free time was spent thinking up new names to call him or other jests referring to his weight. Hindenburg really wasn't to the _obese_ level, but even through his vast amount of Flood-given muscle, you could tell his host body spent more time hovering over the box of Berliners in a UNSC conference room than hoofing it on the battlefield.

"How about you, Carl?" Anderson said, elevating his voice so he could hear. Speekeasie just grunted, attention focused on the papers in front of him.

"Guess so," Anderson said.

Officers Kristallnacht and 'Magee had just entered into a loud, angry quarrel over their game of table-tennis, when the automatic doors slid open again.

"_What is up_, my fellow _S_uper _S_mooths?!" Leroy Nuremberg, the more recently promoted SS officer, declared as he stepped inside.

Anderson and Hindenburg both groaned as they exchanged distressed glances.

"Speekeasie! Still workin' on that memoir of yours?" Nuremberg asked, patting him on the back roughly. Speekeasie fixed his monocle back in front of his left eye and shot Nuremberg the dirtiest look he could manage, which was to say, not very different from his default expression. Nuremberg was silent for a moment.

"Well, I see you're obviously a very busy Flood, I won't keep you anymore, but hey! Congrats on that promotion! You're gonna make such great propaganda!" he said as he slapped him roughly on the back once more for good measure and headed for the space-coffee pot, whistling "Beauty School Dropout" from _Grease_. "Oh, lookit that. You're all out of coffee. Guess I better make s'more!" he said with a cheeky shrug.

"I _really_ hate him," Hindenburg whispered to Anderson.

"Finally, something we agree on," he answered as they watched Nuremberg put on another pot of space-coffee and finish with a seven second dance rendition that was half moonwalk, half robot.

"Pretty sweet, huh? I could teach you guys if you wanted me to, but I'd have to charge," he said, now facing the other two officers on the sofa. "Hey, guys! Can I get in on the next game?!" he shouted to the officers playing table tennis. 'Magee and Kristallnacht looked his way and the former took no hesitance in answering.

"……We hate you. Which means there's no way you're playing with us, which means you'll have to bother someone else."

"Oh……okay then. Maybe some other time," Nuremberg said with a shrug. He then proceeded to take a seat between Anderson and Hindenburg, placing his arms around both Floods.

"Yep, it's pretty sweet being a Schützstaffel officer. I remember when I was just a Private and a Medic. Wasn't as fun as being SS, _trust me_," he explained cheerfully. "But enough about me, what about you guys?"

"Eh," they both answered with a shrug at the same time, refusing to look the rookie directly on.

"Yep," Nuremberg said again. "You know what, T.J.? You should totally get new lenses in your glasses, because with that crack there, no one can see your pretty eyes. You're lucky, too. Not everyone gets both of their eyes like you. And Hindenburg—"

"—Oh goody, can't wait—"

"—You're very masculine and burly, you should talk to Ivan about getting a better second-in-command uniform. One that isn't as adorned as much. _That way_, combat forms can take a gander at your big muscles, _if_ you know what I mean," Nuremberg suggested, nudging him playfully.

"……I'm pretty sure that the ranks _don't_ want to be staring at male figures, _if_ you know what I mean," Hindenburg answered.

"Are you kidding? There's _no way_ a guy with even the _lowest_ standards would want to look at Chubby Checker's body," Anderson said.

"Look who's talking, _four eyes_," Hindenburg growled.

"C'mon now, T.J. It's not Walter's fault that he turned to eating those short aliens with the gas-masks when he was stressed out during the last drop-in and he was stressed out _a lot_. Isn't that right, Walter?" Nuremberg said innocently.

"……If you touch me, you're going to find out what's at the bottom of those trenches in the Library."

"_I'm_ your _commanding officer_. You're supposed to call me _Captain_," Anderson sneered in Nuremberg's direction.

"Yes, but _I_ outrank you all. Go ahead and call him whatever you want, Nuremberglar. Would you like a few suggestions?"

"But you'll just call him mean, duragitory names. _Captain_ Anderson is a very cute soldier."

"……Why don't you go bother Speekeasie? He told me he wants to be your best friend," Hindenburg suggested.

"Really?!" Nuremberg said joyfully, turning his attention to the bitter soldier. Speekeasie looked over his shoulder for a moment, scratched something down on a piece of paper, and then turned around and held it up. It read "FUCK YOU." in all capital letters. Captain Anderson chuckled heartily upon seeing this.

"That is _so_ mean, Carl!" Nuremberg said.

Speekeasie turned around and added "that goes for _you_, too."

Nuremberg's shoulders drooped upon reading this.

"Hey, Nuremberg? Wanna see somethin'?" Hindenburg axed.

"Is it fun?" the chipper officer answered.

"Well……you _can_ play with it, so yeah, it's fun," Hindenburg said, unbuckling his belt.

"AH! NO!" Nuremberg yelped, immediately scrambling up off of the sofa and covering his eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, rookie! It's fun!"

"No! We're not in a relationship! You're not allowed to!"

"Ugh, _thank you_, Nuremberg," Captain Anderson sighed with relief.

"Jealous……" Hindenburg said.

"Well, it's still the morning and I guess you're all still a little grumpy……or hung. I'd hate to drink and run, but, Commander Ivan wants to see me about something private. He wants you to come too, _Captain_ Anderson," he said.

"Why does he want to see _both_ of us?" Anderson inquired.

"He didn't specify. He just told me that it was important and that we needed to go to his quarters at……" he answered, looking at his watch. "Forty minutes from then."

Anderson groaned dramatically and rose from the sofa.

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Just you and me hangin' out with the Commander. Catch you other guys later, Heil Ivan and Jared! Peace to the Ring!" he said playfully as they left the room.

"……At least he smells good all of the time," Hindenburg said. Speekeasie shrugged and nodded.

"Boy, I sure hope that coffee was decaf, if it wasn't, I'munna be goin' _all day_!" Nuremberg said.

"Thank God it was," Anderson remarked as he nodded to the four SS guards and the massive automatic door opened for them. A scattering of War Department personnel were bustling around and Ivan was consulting with an artist from the Propaganda and Public Communications Office holding a piece of paper while buttoning his tunic and adjusting his belt. Black-coated bodyguards leaned up against rifles and walls and eyed everything that moved in the room eerily.

"I'm thinking something kind of like……'Ours to Take Back, Ours to Protect! Don't Buy from Sources Not 'Pure'!" they heard Ivan request.

"Perhaps I could draw a bunch of shops with smashed windows and effstikas painted on them, with a bunch of alien bodies lying in the street. Ringsminister Speekeasie suggested that," the artist suggested.

Ivan snapped his fingers. "I like where this is going! Have it on my desk tomorrow," he said, brushing the artist off and facing the approaching SS officers. They both saluted upon arrival.

"Excellent! Just the boys I wanted to see."

"What do you need, Commander?" Anderson asked.

"I love hearing that……anyway, I need you two to perform a remarkably large favour for me. You're both familiar our newer secretary, correct?"

"Who, Mess?

"No, no, not _mine_. I meant the Flood as a whole. Mess is going crazy anyway, he's a complete madman."

"Yeah, all he does is sit in his quarters and listen to the _Pagliacci _soundtrack all day," Nuremberg commented.

"Dismal," Anderson agreed.

"Yes, rather, but you're straying away from the subject. I mean that dreadfully intolerant bastard who sits at the desk in the front of our base," Ivan corrected.

"Oh, you mean _Private Harvey_?"

"Yes, just the one! It would seem as though he is a bit homophobic. I, myself, would personally go and make his day, however, I'll be receiving a transmission from Ringsführer Gravemind and, as a major Flood leader, I can't afford to miss it. I think two powers such as you would make a fine team to put him in his place," Ivan ordered.

"Yes, but, do I _have_ to go with _Nuremberg_?" Anderson asked.

"Yes, you do. Don't complain, Anderson, you _know_ how I feel about whiners."

"Hey, what about Ringsmarschal Hindenburg? He's a power and he's higher ranking than us," Nuremberg suggested.

"Fantastic suggestion! Bring him along as well," Ivan countermanded his previous order and replaced it.

"Aw, come _on_! Why does Jimmy Buffettable have to come?" Anderson drawled.

"Are you going to stop complaining, or should I fetch you a 'dirt bottle'?" Ivan mocked over his shoulder as he headed towards his desk.

"Ow," Nuremberg said, placing a hand over his heart as he looked to Anderson. "Aw, come on, _Captain _Anderson, it'll be fun! We could have ladytimes," Nuremberg said, touching the Captain's arm.

"……What in God's grace does that even _mean_?!" Anderson asked aloud as he stalked out of the quarters. "And another thing……you don't have to put so much emphasis on 'Captain', just _say_ it."

Private Harvey was a difficult Flood. He was vastly intolerant of many different things and was outlandishly homophobic. He often gave some of the Schützstaffeln trouble. When they had attempted to silence him, they always emerged unsuccessful. The problem had been brought up to the Commanders and they addressed it rapidly. The standard punishments for offenses such as these were beatings, death threats, court martial, and ultimately, execution. However, executing Private Harvey was not in the cards……seeing as he was the Flood's _only_ secretary. Previously, female combat forms had occupied this job stereotypically by orders of Commander Ivan, but tough as they were, a single female ex-Marine was unable to fight off twenty aggressive and horny male combat forms. None had since remained and Harvey had filled the open spot for a little under three years.

After gathering a reluctant Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, the trio had set out for a long, stern, and possibly violent talk with the bigoted secretary.

Private Harvey was sitting at the desk provided for him, resting his jackboots on top of it as a three-year-old newspaper stood planted in front of his face.

"This is going to be _so_ fun," Hindenburg said as he cracked his knuckles. The three rounded on his desk. Harvey took no actions to acknowledge them.

"Doin' your job, Private?" Hindenburg asked, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Harvey folded the paper in half and emotionlessly stared at his superiors. His head was sickeningly twisted to the side and rest limply on his right shoulder.

"Well, well, if it ain't the Schützstaff-eln. What can I do fur ya?" he asked sarcastically.

"I think you know damn well why we're here, Harv," Hindenburg continued.

"_I_ have no idea what ya could passibly want," Harvey sneered.

"Some of the Schützstaffeln have complained of your slander against homosexuals," Anderson pointed out.

Harvey chuckled darkly. "You tackin' 'bout all the fiyah fiytin' queyahs?"

"This is exactly why we're here," Anderson growled.

"That's not very nice, I don't think you realize just how mean that sounds," Nuremberg said.

"Oh no, not you too, Nurembearg. I thought you would turn out betta than that."

"I'm not sayin' anything," Nuremberg said.

"It was only tahme before this whole goddamn base turned inta some kinda male strip club," Harvey said, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind his neck.

"Commander Ivan made the details very specific on what he wants us to do to you if you don't shape up," Hindenburg added, cracking his knuckles loudly.

"I can only imagine what he suggested. I guess he wants all a' you ta suck my cack or somethin' to teach me some kinda lesson," Harvey remarked.

Hindenburg placed his hands on either side of the desk and brought his eyes down to the secretary's. "Unless you want to experience what an evening in the Minnesota Airport men's bathroom is like, I suggest you shut that enormous cesspool you call a mouth and start showing your superiors some respect. If I hear anything against those of a different orientation then you, you'll beg for death," the second-in-command threatened quietly. He placed one of his large hands over Harvey's mouth. "And you'll never guess what _this_ hand was doing before we came down here……" he chuckled hellishly.

Harvey looked utterly disgusted as Hindenburg let go and backed off.

"I hope we've been helpful in setting you back on the right tracks," Anderson said with a grin as the three officers moved back around the desk and went back into the lair.

"……Fiyah fiytin' queyahs," Harvey shuddered.

Riley 'Bodensee was dragged through the halls of the ship by both Ship Master and assistant. They had gotten about three-fourths the way through the trip to the chamber where the ship's Command Council was stationed, when they met up with a black-armoured Elite named Zuka 'Zamamee.

"Zuka 'Zamamee," 'Fulsamee said, raising a palm outward as a greeting. "How is your wound?"

"I will heal, thank you," he said with a nod. 'Zamamee was total eye-candy as far as Elites go. His shiny black armour and iron-hard, rippling muscles made him easy to gape at. Although, despite his aesthetically pleasing physical features, he had an enormous ego and acted like an air-headed bigot. He didn't have any _true_ friends. Most of them only used him because he came from one of the wealthiest families in High Charity.

"Are you on your way to meet with the Council?"

"No, Excellency. My meeting does not take place until a few cycles from now. I was, however, on my way to pick up my new accomplice," he answered.

"……Would you mind taking _this_ to the Council?" 'Fulsamee asked, holding Riley out to the other Elite. "He is supposed to meet with the Prophet of Filibusting."

"Oh no, not _'Bodensee_," 'Zamamee whined.

Riley was too busy staring at 'Zamamee longingly to listen in on what they were conversing about. His face flushed a bright purple as he tried to contain his girlish giggles.

"Most unfortunately, yes. I hate to have to burden you with such as task, but it must be done. See that he gets there as soon as possible," 'Fulsamee ordered.

"Hi……" Riley said nervously as he stared in awe at the formidable Special Operatives Elite.

"……Indeed……" 'Zamamee answered with a hint of disgust.

"……Wanna hold hands?!" Riley asked excitedly.

'Zamamee shook his head slowly and gave his commanding officers a look similar to a cat in a running shower.

"……Make sure he gets there on time. You do not wish to make the Council angry," 'Fulsamee added.

"……I will, Excellency," 'Zamamee was forced to say.

"Dismissed," 'Fulsamee said, turning his back sharply, trying to get as far away from Riley as possible.

"_How_ did I get stuck with the likes of _you_?" 'Zamamee hissed as soon as he was sure the irate Ship Master was out of range.

"MmmI don't know. You're just lucky I guess," Riley said with minor laughter. He immediately silenced when he saw the look that 'Zamamee shot him.

"You have the _most annoying_ voice," 'Zamamee said to himself. "You have _always_ had the most annoying voice."

He saw commotion out of the corner of his eyes. _Oh, what now_, he thought to himself as he whipped around. To his disgust, he saw Riley skipping only a few paces behind him. He aimed a firm backhand at Riley, but he ducked just in time, missing his superior's hand by fractions.

"Oops, missed me!" he said with some more annoying laughter.

"What the hell are you doing?! Covenant warriors _do not_ skip!"

"Well _this one does_!" Riley argued back.

"……How did you even _become_ a warrior?" 'Zamamee questioned.

"Well……discipline, physical and emotional abuse, and just a _tiny_ pinch of magic," Riley concluded, batting his eyes and grinning.

'Zamamee stood with his jaws agape.

Riley finished off with machine-gun laughter.

_Such is the Prophets' decree_, 'Zamamee said to himself through gritted fangs. He whipped out his plasma rifle, pointed it to Riley's head and shoved him in the direction of the lift they were to take.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch where you're pointing that thing! I'm a rare treasure!" Riley said, putting his hands up by his head in surrender.

"You are going to be a rare _corpse_ if you do not shut your jaws _this instant_! This is a _command_ from a _superior_!" 'Zamamee growled harshly.

"Your armour doesn't make you better than me," Riley retorted.

"Actually, _it does_," he answered arrogantly.

Riley had known Zuka 'Zamamee for a long time, however, he never appeared to have the slightest interest in him, not even when they were in the Covenant Imperial Marching Band together _and_ in the same section. "You're still the same angry, unforgiving, bari sax playing Sangheili I used to know," Riley said. "But you're _really_ cute, I'll give you that."

'Zamamee took a few seconds to recall the years when he and Riley were both apart of the C.I.M.B., long since banned by the Prophets.

"……Why do you still _remember_ that?" he demanded.

"Oh, c'mon! You won't admit it, but you _loved_ every unit of marching band."

"……Do _you_ still play soprano saxophone?"

"Hecks yeah! In fact, I just pulled it out the other day when I had some free time. I've still got it," Riley chuckled. 'Zamamee shook his head, remembering that Riley was always bragging to everyone about how he was section leader, when 'Zamamee was, in reality. Riley was somewhat terrible. But, what humans think is terrible is highly different from what Covenant think is terrible.

Both Elites stepped aboard a lift. 'Zamamee activated the panel and it slowly began to descend. There was a precious ten seconds when Riley didn't talk or move, aside from staring at 'Zamamee, then he playfully gave him a hug from behind.

"What are you doing?! Unhand me this instant!" 'Zamamee ordered trying to pry Riley off of his waist. "Why do you _insist_ on touching me?!"

"……Because I can't believe you're real," Riley said.

"_Off_," he demanded, roughly shoving him off and dusting his armour as if it had gotten dirty. "You will scuff my armour."

"……Can I touch your muscles?" Riley asked, reaching for one of his biceps.

'Zamamee yanked his arm away agilely. "Just look, _do not_ touch," he said.

Riley was never one to follow rules until you used physical harm on him. He slowly reached out for one of the Spec Ops Elite's arms. He took a hold of his hand, leaned his head on his shoulder, and began stroking his arm. 'Zamamee twitched violently and jumped away from the minor Elite.

"_What is your problem_?! Do you have _any_ comprehension of the word '_no_'?!" he screamed.

"……We'd look good together. You know, black and blue armour, means no one would be able to touch us because we're so tough!" he said playfully, as he assumed a boxing position and punched one of Zuka's arms gently. The enraged Elite growled, grabbed Riley by the throat and lifted him off of the ground.

"Why—are—you—bothering—me……_why_?!"

"……Imma hugger, not a shooter," Riley said with a laugh, holding onto the other Elite's wrist.

After a short ride, they met up with six other black-clad Elites who were waiting in front of the door to the Council Chamber.

The Elite who was sitting at the identification reader looked at 'Zamamee questionably.

"Ah, 'Zamamee. Your meeting is not scheduled for—"

"—_I am wary of that_. I was given—orders to—escort Riley 'Bodensee to the—Council—by Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee," he answered, cutting the other Elite off with much arrogance as he held one hand out to hold Riley in place. He was unsuccessfully reaching for 'Zamamee.

"Right. Identification," he said in Riley's direction.

"Oh right, of course, let me just—" he said to himself as he fished around in his battle harness. He searched thoroughly through the pockets, pulling out most of the contents and occasionally telling a brief story about what was there.

"Nope……nope……nope……that's not it……nope……nope," he said each time he pulled out something that wasn't his identification disk. "Oh, man!" he said as he pulled out a Koosh ball. "Isn't this _soooooo _cool?! It's so ghetto," he said as he tossed it in the air, caught it, and placed it back into a pocket.

"Some unit _today_ would be nice," the now irate identification Elite said, drumming his fingers on the waist-high box.

"Oh, right, sorry……" Riley said, opening the last pocket. "Ha! Here it is!" he said, pulling it out, and then gracing the other warrior with his hindering laugh. The Elite rolled his eyes as he dropped it into a handheld reader.

"Place your hand in here," he instructed as he tapped the waist-high black box.

"OoOoOoh……looks _omniscient_," Riley said, annunciating the word as if to sound more intelligent. The black-clad Elite grabbed Riley's hand and stuck it in the box.

"It will need to sample your tissue," he said unenthusiastically.

"Wha—" Riley asked, but before he could finish the rest of his word, he felt a stab of pain from the inside of the box. "—OOOWWW!" he yelled as he retracted it from the box as fast as he could. "LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT IT! IT WENT CLEAR THROUGH MY FINGER! AH! GOOD GRAVY! SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!" he said loudly.

"……Was the testing _really_ necessary?" Zuka 'Zamamee whispered to the identification Elite.

"In this case, I wish it was not apart of Council regulations……however, _you_ are free to leave, he is 'Bodensee all right."

'Zamamee sniffed haughtily and hurried back onto the lift.

"Later, Zook! Maybe you and me will do lunch some lapse! Or better yet, you can bring your sax and we can totally jam together!" Riley called out after him.

"I do not play anymore!" he yelled behind his shoulder.

"……We could make out instead!"

"The Council of Expected Excommunication is running a little behind schedule. There is a waiting

room over there. Someone will call you when they are ready," the identification Elite explained, pointing to a dismal-looking room. Riley reluctantly approached the waiting room, waited for the doors to open, and stepped in. There were many other Covenant soldiers inside, but most kept to themselves and said nothing. Riley conspicuously picked up an issue of "PlaySang" that sat on an end table and occasionally peered over the top of the magazine to watch two other Elites at the other end of the room. They were conversing very loudly and discussing how a soldier by the name of 'Yanamee had done twenty seven different Sangheili in one night and was currently partaking in a contest with another Elite. Just local gossip.

Riley felt a nudge and looked over to his left. A Hunter was sitting next to him and staring him down.

"Hey……whatchoo got in yo pocket?" he inquired.

"Um……is this a trick question?"

"C'mon, what's in yo pocket?"

"I-I don't—"

"—I wanna knooow……" the Hunter said, stretching the length of the last syllable. Luckily, his name was called before the conversation could progress further.

Thirty nine minutes had passed before Riley was called in. He was one of only two soldiers left and had just learned how to perform an "Underhanded B-29 Dust-Off" during intercourse, when a different black-armoured Elite came to fetch him.

"Are you Riley 'Bodensee?" he questioned.

"Yep!"

"The Council will see you now."

"Hey……" Riley asked cheekily, "……do you know how to do this?"

"……Sure. I also know how to do a 'Conduit Failure' and 'Screaming Unggoys Violating the Heavens'."

"……Whoa……did you ever work behind 'the Anal Probe'?"

"……No."

"C'mon, you look like—"

"—_Get inside_!"the Elite said as he dragged him to a heavy door and threw him into the room

where the Prophet of Filibusting was waiting.

"Ow, jeez," Riley said briskly as he stood up and dusted himself off. He heard a loud clearing of throat, which got his attention. The Prophet was seated at the other side of the vast room and a podium in which Riley was supposed to stand at sat a few metres away. His antigravity belt was on, suspending him one full unit off of the ground. His intricate wardrobe made him look very imposing and wise. The aristocrat Elite Soha 'Rolamee looked up from his work to acknowledge the lesser Elite.

"You must be 'Bodensee……I greet you."

"Whatever happened to 'yo Riley! What up G?!' Now it's all 'Greetings 'Bodensee, how are you today?' You know like, 'take me to your leader' all stereotype robot-space thingy," Riley ranted quickly, using his hands to talk, something he was quite fond of doing.

"……Pardon?" 'Rolamee asked in partial disgust.

"Silence! You are not here to babble on like a lunatic, you are here to receive punishment for your ignorance!" the Prophet explained angrily.

"Let me be the first to tell you, Excellency, that those identification boxes, _they hurt_! Don't you have some other way that won't hurt so badly?"

"……I have not heard much of your battle record……nor have I heard anything about astounding numbers of human casualties……are you even _familiar_ with the face of war?" the Prophet asked.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't exactly be able to pinpoint the face of war in a crowd, but—"

"—Cease! Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee, Bako 'Ikaporamee, and majority of the officers aboard this ship tell me you are somewhat of a hindrance."

"They're just playa haters, Excellency, take it from me. But _'Zamamee_……now _there's_ a cute lad. Man, what I'd give to let him—"

"—Yes……I have also noted that you have managed to total three Ghosts…..while _intoxicated_."

"Now _there's _a funny story! See, I will admit, I maybe had _one too many_ of those TerroriZOR forty ounces……four to be exact……but you know, some other Sangheili _made_ me do it!"

"TerrioriZOR" is the most commonly and widely ingested beer in the Sangheili community. It also happens to be the cheapest and in the biggest bottle.

"I beg to differ. Watch this……" the Prophet said as he gestured to a screen to his right. Riley cocked his head, fixing his eyes on the screen. He watched an image of himself staggering around a beach when he was stationed near an ocean. Making careful analysis of the video, he _did_ notice that no one else was in sight. He watched himself trip, stagger, flail, and run into various things along the beach, and sure enough, some parked Ghosts happened to be one of those things. It took a while for the drunken Riley to climb aboard one, but he managed to eventually. He ran the first one into the side of a cliff, vomited all over the second before smashing it into a tree, and ran the third straight into the body of water.

"Whoa……I _do not_ remember that _at all_," Riley laughed. "Hey! Why were you spying on me?! _Not_ cool."

"……I've detected an unhealthy amount of disrespect in your tone. The Covenant has no tolerance for such asinine behaviour," the Prophet said coldly.

"There's actually a pretty funny story that goes along with _that_ too—"

"—_Therefore_, you will be executed."

"WHAT?! _No_! I'm sad!" Riley yelled.

"You give the Council and myself no choice. There is no place for you in this universe."

"No, no, no! Seriously, like no, really, give me another chance!"

"Refrain from asking anymore."

"PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE?! I _can't help_ I was born a poor black child!"

'Rolamee had been watching 'Bodensee, and even though agreeing with his superior and the others that he was a complete lunatic, he felt it just a tiny bit unfair.

"If I may, Excellency," he stated, clearing his throat.

"What _now_, 'Rolamee?" the Prophet asked in a peeved manner.

"Don't you think that 'Bodensee deserves at least_ some sort _of last request?" he

asked, gesturing to the Elite who was kneeling with his head to the metal floor and sobbing loudly.

"The so called 'soldier'," the Prophet said with air-quotes, "is of hardly any use to the Covenant military. He _will_ be disposed of, unless _you_ can convince me otherwise. You seem _fond _of this being."

"I only believe that he deserves _some_ voice in this. It is, after all, _his_ life at stake. Besides, he must have gone through military training and passed the requirements, or else he would not be here. Covenant law restricts any being without proper training for the position."

The Prophet thought about this. Although he detested it heartily, 'Rolamee _was_ right. 'Bodensee wouldn't be a warrior, even if he was low-ranking, if he hadn't passed military training and had the ability to be considered capable and useful, and he very clearly had passed.

"……As much pain as it brings me, you are correct. Tell me 'Bodensee, are there some sort of military capabilities within your hot-aired head?"

Riley sat up quickly as soon as the Prophet turned his speech to him. "Um……I don't know……but I _can_ do this!" he said as he stood up and started jitterbugging.

"Stop your gyrating this instant!" the Prophet yelled.

Riley stopped immediately.

"……Thanks to Soha 'Rolamee, your life will be spared, _as of now_. You are to now _take part in missions_, _return to your place in the military_, and most importantly, _start adding casualties to your battle records_. They are very poor and lack any trace of human massacre."

_But I hate killing for kicks_, Riley thought to himself. However, he kept his jaws shut. He knew that even if he pushed the Prophet only a miniscule amount over the edge, he would indefinitely be executed. Soha 'Rolamee had done a wonderful favour for him, and for this, he was truly grateful.

"'Rolamee, see to it that 'Bodensee receives weaponry," the Prophet said.

"Yes, Excellency," he answered. 'Rolamee exited through a door to the back of the room, however, it was so dark that Riley couldn't see 'Rolamee exit, he only heard the whir of an automatic door. He returned moments later.

"Here," he said as he handed Riley a plasma rifle and a plasma grenade belt. Riley looked at him emotionally for a unit or two and then grabbed him in an enormous hug.

"I love you, man! You're the greatest pal a poor black child could ever have!" he yelled through fake sobs.

"Quite," 'Rolamee said, slipping out of Riley's firm grip.

"_And_ I get my own ghettoblaster! I'm gonna make it after all!" Riley continued. He then burst into the chorus of Elvis Presley's "If Everyday Was Like Christmas"……a very off-key chorus.

"……So, he may keep his head?" 'Rolamee asked.

"Yes! Just get it _away_ from me before I _abruptly_ change my mind!" the Prophet said angrily, placing his hands over his ears.

'Rolamee approached Riley and took a hold of his shoulder.

"Do you own contact lenses?"

"Uh yeah, but I don't like them very much. They're all tiny and they like get in your eye and—"

"—I suggest you _learn_ to like them_._ It will be much easier in the battlefield. You are free to go," he said with a nod.

Riley kissed 'Rolamee on a spot on the side of his face where his helmet didn't cover.

"Ugh!" he cried out in disgust as Riley charged maniacally out of the chamber, his famous laughter echoing in the chamber.

"Are you _sure_ you want him to keep his head?" the Prophet asked.

"……No, Excellency," he answered quietly.

"Hello……_Riley_," Riley's worst enemy, Marvin 'Archeree, said with a chuckle as they met outside of the Council Chamber.

"Hello, _'Archeree_," he answered unenthusiastically.

"When is your execution, 'Bodensee? I want to make sure I do not miss it!" Marvin laughed vilely as he passed. Riley stopped and eyed his suppressor comically.

"For your information, _Mar-vin_, I'm _not _getting executed, I'm _back_ in the military, _and_ I've got _my own_ ghettoblaster!" he said as he prodded Marvin's armoured forearm with his rifle.

"Ghettoblaster? What in the name of the sacred rings does _that_ mean?" Marvin asked, laughing heartily. Passing Sangheili laughed along with him. "Come now, 'Bodensee! Why don't you entertain us with some of your infamously imbecilic laughter?"

Riley frowned. "……Why are you such a meanie?"

"Why are _you_ such a quarter-witted dolt? How about you go listen to your _human_ music in the _lower ranking_ sleeping quarters?" Marvin sneered.

"Well, I was just about to!" Riley said, brushing past the other Elites and making his way to his destination. He could hear the others laughing at him even when he was a fair distance away. Marvin was lucky, Marvin was higher-ranking. He was an Elite who wore red armour, which made him one rank level higher than Riley.

Dragging himself sadly back to his sleeping quarters, the door opened automatically for him and he stepped inside. His cot was located at the back of the room and in the left column. "Oh Jerry, what do I do _now_?" Riley asked his cardboard cutout of Jerry Seinfeld shrugging. He was currently one of Riley's human heroes, along with Julie Andrews, Drew Carey, John Coltrane, and Miles Davis. He often got questioned as to why it was in the sleeping quarters. Riley collapsed on his hover-cot and stared at the ceiling.

A few moments later, another blue-armoured Elite came up to his cot.

"You have visitors outside," he said sourly.

"Is it 'Fulsamee or 'Archeree?" Riley asked.

"No……" the Elite said before stalking away. "Lower class scum."

Riley got up and headed towards the door quickly. He exited the lesser Elite quarters to meet three of his only friends. A Hunter named James Robinson Gurru, a Jackal named Org who suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder which caused him to throw anything he got his hands on, and the Grunt named Peter.

"Hey," Peter said.

"What's shakin', bacon?" Riley answered.

"Hear you uh, got in a pretty big mess with the Prophet."

"_Did_ I! Now he's über monitoring me to make sure I go out and fight……like I'm supposed to do," Riley said.

"C'mon man, ya couldn't hide out heer fo'eva. They was gonna put ya where ya shoulda'ben innyway," James said with a shrug. The Lekgolo are stereotypically black, but rate a perfect ten on the awesome scale.

"Yeah, why are ya so against foightin' enaway?" Org asked. All Jackals speak with late nineteenth century cockney accents. This is a fair warning.

"It's just……I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"Let's walk……" Peter suggested.

The four-some continued down the hall and chose a corner to sit in.

"Well……it's a good thing they didn't put you on one of the assault boats sent to the human ship. All of the warriors didn't make it on there," Peter said, trying to make his friend feel more at ease.

"Yeah! We got our G right heer," James said, putting a well-armoured arm around Riley.

"Thanks guys, much appreciated," Riley said, smiling.

"When wa called t'morra, we kin all stick tagetha near tha back o' the force, that way, we kin be safer, for tha time bein'," Org suggested.

"Good plan, for a Kig-Yar," Peter said. "But, still, why do you always run from this war, Riley?"

"I just don't like fighting is all. I think it's pointless, really. I mean, do any of us really _know why_ we have to slaughter the humans?"

The three went silent.

"Come ta think on it, Idon' even know why eitha," Org said with a shrug.

"Well, 'Fulsamee's ben watchin' ya 'n there ain't nothin' we can do right now," James said.

Riley sighed angrily. "I'm sick of being ruled by Horny 'Fullacoke."

"Well, if you actually _went out_ and made a warrior's name for yourself, maybe you could outrank him one day, and then _you'd_ get to boss everyone around," Peter explained.

"Chyah, like _that_ wood ever happen! Hey! That reminds me, look at the ghettoblaster I got today!" he said, pulling the plasma rifle out of his holster.

"Da-yum, dat things so dope!"

"Honestly, ah neva thought I'd see ya pick one a' those up," Org said.

"C'mon Org, you've seen me with one of these before. This one fancy brotha gave it to me and I didn't want to make him change his mind about saving me. It barely works, it's so ghetto." Riley said.

"It probably needs to be charged or something," Peter said, examining it. "But I don't know, I'm not allowed a rifle, only a pistol."

"Me too, many apologies," Org agreed.

"No matter. I don't know how much I'm going to be using it anyway. I've only been on the field a few times before and I didn't see or do much," Riley sighed, placing it back on his thigh and it fused to his armour. He stood up suddenly. "Listen, I think I'm gonna go lament now and then I have to contact my aunt or my uncle and see if they can help. Any of you want to come with?" he offered.

"I _guess_ I'm in," Peter said.

"Sounds deloightful?" Org agreed. All of them decided to join Riley.

Stanley and "Dangerous" Dan entered the Flood "bar" looking for Big Pat. It was a wide room in which a long box that surged with electric energy was used as a counter for drinks and passed out officers to sleep on.

"Where's he at?" Stanley asked, scanning the place quickly.

Dan made a Flood noise and stood at an angle to his right.

"Jeez, how could you tell?" Stanley asked in a confused manner, seeing as the entire Flood body looked almost the same, _whatever_ kind of creature they took over.

"Let's go check first," Stanley suggested as they made their way over to the long counter. Sure enough, Pat was sitting at the bar. "Um……Pat? Are you conscious?" Stanley asked, tapping him on the shoulder. Pat's head shot up and he looked around in a panicky state.

"Where?! Wha?! Wh—oh, it's just you guys," he drawled.

"……You know what's ironic about this? You're down at the bar, but you can't drink anything," Stanley quipped.

"Shut—up, _Stanley_," Pat growled. Seeing as they didn't have the technology or stolen ship parts right for fashioning a distillery, the Flood used PAM cooking spray as a substitute for alcohol. The parasite argues it's just as potent as human liquor. Luckily, there was enough stocked in the ship comissary to last a while.

"_Maybe_ we should get outta here, I don't like the looks we're receiving from the other patrons," Stan suggested, quickly chancing a glance at the array of Brownshirts and SS guards watching them.

"You can leave, but I'munna stay here."

"Pat, I _told you_ I'd find a way out of this. Give me time," Stanley said, pulling Patrick aside and lowering his voice as to avoid eavesdroppers and SS officers. A few other Floods looked over to where the two were arguing, but it didn't hold their attention for too long. Everyone was used to Stanley and Pat arguing with each other by now.

"Why is it always about _you_?! How come it's nevur about _me_?!" Big Pat retorted. "We've been together fur _how many years now_?! And it's still Stanley, Stanley, Stanley! It's _never_ Stanley _and _Patrick!"

"Hey, hey, this is just as much _your_ fault as it is mine! We _both_ agreed to never follow these racist bastards."

"……_That's it_! There's _no way_ I'm havin' sex _with you _tonight!" Big Pat yelled, his voice significantly louder than Stanley's.

"_Fine_! But sitting here pretending to drown your indecision in PAM is _not_ going to help you!"

Pat thought about what his friend was trying to tell him. He looked around at the other Floods in the area. All of them were sporting uniforms of different ranks. Pat was sick of being picked on and tormented by other, tougher Floods. However, still couldn't make up his mind. He definitely _didn't_ want to be a Brownshirt, but he definitely _didn't_ want anymore trouble with the Commanders.

"……I guess yer right, Stanley. I'm sorry fur arguing. I've had a tough day, 'n—"

"—I know, I know, I was there for the majority of it. I think once we get around a little more, we can have enough members in our collective to coordinate a resistance. Just gimme time."

"Okay……"

"Let's go back to our quarters. You can call up your counselor and we can get some rest," Stanley said, grabbing "Dangerous" Dan, who had been actively approaching every soldier in the "bar" making noises that indicated he wanted to be touched. Big Pat followed them outside.

Once back in their quarters, Big Pat went over to the holographic messaging system at the back of the large room and dialed a number. He took a seat on the ground as he heard ringing.

"Hello?" a slightly elderly voice answered as a shimmering image popped up on the large screen.

"Hi, Mr. Rogers?"

"Oh, hello. Let me guess, this is Patrick Flood?"

"Sure is! How'd you know?"

"Uh, there's a thing called 'caller ID' son, and I can see you. This is a holo-phone," Mr. Rogers explained.

"Oh, right, I knew that."

"So, what's new? Is everything going well on the Halo ring?"

"Um, sort of. I called to get some advice."

"Did you have a rough day?"

"Yeah. My commanding officers found out that my friends and I keep skippin' our military duty 'n he wants us to get back in the army and become Storm Troopers."

"Oh, dear……I remember those days," Mr. Rogers said.

"Yeah, but, I _don't wanna_ do it! I hate fascism and I hate our Commanders!"

"Calm down, Patrick. I know how you feel. There were many drafts in my day, so I can sympathize with your feelings. I was reluctant about joining the Navy, but—"

"—_You_ were in the Navy?"

"Sure was. I was even on the special force that went and staked-out killers and wanted men. I have a huge man-count underneath my name. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you can't run away from your fears. Do you understand? If you continue to show that you're afraid of something, it's going to keep haunting you for the rest of your life, and you'll never be able to shake it off. Don't let it control you. Still with me?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes, we have to reach deep down inside ourselves to find the solutions to everyday or sometimes complex problems."

"Wow……is there anything you _don't_ know about?" Big Pat said with awe.

"Well, I don't know _everything_, but I've been around the block once or twice. Who knows, maybe you'll do great things in the Flood battalion and turn out just like me."

"……Vice President of the Earth more than five hundred years in the future?" Big Pat asked eagerly.

"Exactly," Mr. Rogers said, going with it. "Is that Gordon guy still giving you trouble?"

"Yeah. Just this morning he was pickin' on me," Pat said mournfully.

"That meanie……I'll get him one day for you, provided your training doesn't help you to kick his fanny."

"Maybe. I'll try my hardest."

"That's the spirit, son. And remember, no matter what happens, you'll _always_ be _my_ neighbour," Mr. Rogers said.

"Aw, thanks Mr. Rogers," Big Pat said.

"You take care, Pat. Give me a call tomorrow. I want to know if you managed to get out of your duty."

"I sure will. But, I have one more question."

"Go ahead, friend."

"……How are you still alive today? I mean, no offense, but, didn't you die in the early 2000s?"

"Actually, that's a rather funny story. See, I faked my own death because some of the parents whose children watched my show thought I was a child molester, which I most certainly was not. I had myself cryogenically frozen so I could see what life would be like in the future. Walt Disney did the same thing. As child-entertainers, we have this pact. I would explain it further, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Oh……wow, um, thanks anyway. But I thought that whole 'Walt Disney being frozen' thing was an urban legend."

"……Patrick, you need to realize that not all grown-ups are your friends. Sometimes they lie to you just to tell you what you want to hear so you think everything is okay, or to just shut you up."

"The galaxy is such an unforgiving place……" Big Pat sighed.

"Indeed it is."

"What do you think of it _now_?"

"I'll tell you what……it's sure different from my era."

"I can only imagine. Wull, you have a good one Mr. Rogers." With that, he hung up. "That man……such an inspiration," Big Pat said with a contented sigh. He went over and sat down on the floor with Stanley. Privates didn't get cots, they had to sleep on the floor with a blanket, and not everybody had a blanket, only the bigger soldiers had them. It was similar to prison.

"……Did you get a hold of him?"

"Yeah……"

"……Help you out?"

"Sorta. I kinda feel a little better about tomorrow."

"Good. There's nothing to worry about. I'll be with you. So will 'Dangerous'," Stanley said with a smile.

"……Thanks Stan," Big Pat said as they hugged. "……So……do you still want to get laid tonight?"

Stanley shrugged. "Do I ever _not_ want to get laid?"

"Yeah, good point."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER ****300**

**D+ 03:14:26 (SPARTAN-117/MC HAMMA Mission Clock)/ Surface.**

**(Wow……you guys are **_**soooooo**_** funny)**

**(i knw, right?! Hahahahahahahahaha!)**

**(……I hate you)**

Up ahead, the Master Chief saw a bright light. It was so bright that it seemed to compare with the sun.

"The light, walk towards the light, Chief," Cortana said playfully.

"That's _not_ funny," he reassured.

"Did you lose your sense of humour in the lifeboat crash?" she asked.

"I never _had_ a sense of humour……" he commented coldly. He focused his attention on the light. It seemed to have originated somewhere beyond the tips of trees and cliffs. It surged between a forked construct and raced towards the sky, where the planet Threshold acted as a stunning backdrop. Was the pulse some sort of beacon? Part of what held the ring world together? I don't know……William C. Dietz's rhetorical questions waste everyone's life.

Cortana had pre-warned him about Marines that had crash-landed there not too long ago and he could already hear the characteristic noises made by both human and Covenant weapons alike.

He eased his way through a meadow and onto the hillside, overlooking a U-shaped edifice and the blocky structures that surrounded it. He could see a group of Grunts and Elites frantically dashing about, trying to overwhelm the Marines.

Instead of going all out and charging in brandishing "Valerie", he decided to take out his M6D and let the sidearm do the talking. Several well-placed shots took the majority of the Grunts off of their feet.

Before any of the aliens figured out where the mystery fire was coming from, the Master Chief opened up on a blue-armoured Elite. It took a whole magazine to put the warrior down, but it sure beat going head-on with him.

The sniping gave the group of Marines the advantage they needed to shoot down the rest of the aliens. The Spartan made his way down the slope, paused to strip some plasma grenades off of a dead Grunt, and was greeted by a friendly Private.

"Good to see you, Chief! Welcome to the party!"

The Spartan's answer was a curt nod. "Where's your CO, Private?"

"Oh, him? Yeah, he's back there," he turned and called over his shoulder. "Yo, Sarge! _What it is_!"

The Master Chief instantly recognized the bad-ass Sergeant who approached them. He'd last seen Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson on a good old search-and-destroy mission on one of Reach's orbital docking stations. For the record, Sergeant Johnson hadn't been able to die and the Master Chief hoped it would stay that way.

"What's your status, Sergeant?"

"It's a mess, sir," Johnson sighed, engaging in an intricate hand shake with the Chief. "We're scattered all over the valley. And the Techs have no idea what they're doin'." In the distance they could both hear a frightened Techie scream, "oh, the humanity!"

"We called for evac, but until you showed up, I thought we were cooked."

"_Don't worry_, _Sergeant_. _We'll stay here until evac arrives_," Cortana advised over the Master Chief's external speakers. "Hey……" Cortana then said, coming to a realization. She then began beat-boxing for all to hear.

"Yeah, you need to stop," the Chief said.

"Sarge! I gotta boo-boo!" a Marine whined, pointing to a slight plasma scorch on his elbow.

"And, some of my people need medical attention," Johnson said as he rolled his eyes and sighed irately.

"Wait, that was cool! Here, I'll break-it-down! I can do the robot while spinning on my head!" one Marine said, trying to do a handstand, but falling flat on his back in the process.

"Gitcher ass back up to postion, gringo," Johnson growled.

"I did it _last_ time……" he grumbled, standing up and readying his assault weapon.

"Here comes another dropship! Let's roll out the welcome mat!" a different Private said, trying to sound cool.

"Great……okay people, let's re-form the squad! Get to work!" Johnson barked.

The Master Chief looked up and saw the Covenant craft hovering over the ground, in descent to meet them. A clutch of Grunts and Elites dropped to the ground via the side compartments that gave the ship its characteristic shape.

The Spartan hustled up a ramp that led to the top of the structure, chose a spot between two ramparts to get an accurate shot, and began to put the aliens down one at a time with "Colonel Bisquick". There was a break in the skirmish and the Master Chief paused to review the situation. Cortana pulled up the Marine's position and tagged them as FIRE TEAM-C on his HUD. There was a group of scared Techies in the structure in the middle of the valley, where he was stationed in, and they proved to be rather bothersome while he tried to kill the alien soldiers. They had a bad habit of running right in his line of fire and constantly bitching about how they "weren't trained for this", "didn't want to die", and "wanted their mommies!"

He had just begun the reloading process when he heard a Marine voice say, "another bandit droppin' in behind us! They're tryin' to flank us!"

Sure enough, a large red dot appeared on the Master Chief's motion sensor. He moved to the rear of the building and studied the area for possible targets.The dropship released another contingent of troops—including a trio of Jackals. Their shields flared and glowed red as Sergeant Johnson's men pelted them with fire. One vaguely birdlike alien shook a fist and yelled something in the Sergeant's direction. He was sure it was English, but he had some sort of interesting accent and used a dialect the Chief wasn't familiar with.

Behind them, more Grunts and a red-armoured Elite spread out in an enveloping fashion. A tactic that would have been smart……had there been more dropships. However, the Marines had a clear advantage……a Spartan II with a scope pistol that could reach nearly any enemy from the cover of the alien structure. Upon seeing the Elite charging straight for a Marine with his back turned, the Chief triggered a plasma grenade and aimed it at the alien. It roared in surprise as the adhesive weapon latched onto the top of his helmet. It pulsed a white-blue light as the Elite tried to rip his helmet off. It detonated before he could.

Taking care of the rest of the Covenant forces was cake to the Master Chief, even three more dropships full of the alien menace.

A welcomed voice sounded on his radio receiver. "_This is Echo four niiiiiineteen_! _Does anyone read me_?_ Repeat_:_ Echo four niiiiiineteen_! _Any UNSC forces reeeeeespond_!"

Cortana was quick to reply on the same freq. "_Roger_, _Echo 419_._ This is Fire Team Charlie_._ Good to hear from you_,_ Foehammer_."

"_Roger_,_ Fire Teeeeeeam Charlie_! _Good to heeeeeear from you too_!" Flight Captain Carol Rawley was an experienced pilot, the finest Captain Keyes had. What made her even more distinguished was the fact that she referred to herself as "Foehammer" over the radio and sang every other word she said. This had been going on for a while, on the grounds that she had lost a bet with another pilot and was forced to do this until they got back to Earth……however long that was going to take.

There was a distant rumbling noise and the Master Chief turned in the direction he thought it was coming from. In the distance, he could make out three lifeboats, trailing smoke and flame as they hauled-ass down to the surface.

"They're coming in too fast," Cortana remarked. "If they make it down, the Covenant will be right on top of them!"

The Chief nodded in acknowledgement. "Then we better make sure we find them first."

"_Foehammer_,_ we need you to disengage your Warthog_._ The Master Chief and I are going to try and save some soldiers_."

"_Raaaaahger_."

The Pelican rounded a spire from the alien tower, circled once, and hovered above a small hilltop. Hitched underneath the dropship was an M12 LRV Warthog. It dropped to the ground and bounced once as Foehammer disengaged it from her craft.

"_Ooooooh_-_kay_, _Charlie Team_._ Warthog deeeeeeployed_! _Saaaaaaddle up and give 'em hell_!"

"_Roger_,_ Foehammer_._ Stand by to load survivors and evac them to safety_."

"_Thaaaaaat's affirmative_……_Foehammer out_."

As the remaining Marines ran for the Pelican, the Master Chief went for the Warthog. As he approached the LRV, he noticed a soldier had already taken a seat at the gunner's position. His rank and ID scrolled across the Spartan's display: PFC, FITZGERALD, M.

"Hey, Chief! Sergeant Johnson said you could use a gunner!" the soldier said jovially.

The Spartan nodded. "That's right, Private. There are three lifeboats full of Marines and we're going to go and save them. One more thing……what's the 'M' stand for?"

"It stands for 'Mudd'……at least, that's what they called me on the playground! And the PFC stands for 'Pretty Freakin' Cool'!" Fitzgerald said, trying to sound tough. He pulled the charging back towards his chest, but it slipped out of his grasp and snapped against the gun. A couple of shells popped out of the base of the weapon's three barrels. He looked at the Master Chief with much embarrassment. "Uh……that usually doesn't happen."

The Spartan stared at him a few seconds, thinking that the PFC was a complete wannabe.

"Well, let's roll!" Fitzgerald suggested.

The Master Chief shook his head as he pulled himself up into the driver's seat, buckled himself in, and started the engine. The engine roared and the wheels kicked up streams of dirt. The Warthog accelerated over a small hill and landed with a crash that sounded suspiciously like glass breaking and a sledge hammer striking a metal door combined.

"Git 'er done!" the Marine yelled, punching his fist in the air.

"I put a nav-point on your HUD," Cortana said, "just follow the arrow."

"Figures……" the Master Chief said. "You always were a backseat driver."

Keyes was standing on top of a boulder in the mouth of a cave, one hand shielding his eyes as he scanned the area. He perked up as he heard the distinct whine of a Banshee overhead.

"My name is Captain Keyes, _duck_!" he yelled, jumping down from the rock and hiding behind it with the others, all of which looked quite bored.

"Well, _obviously_. Is it necessary to play sentry when the Covenant already know we're here?" Dowski inquired.

Captain Keyes turned to her, staring at her with a determined expression. "……My name is Captain Keyes……_yes_."

The afternoon had been rough for Team _Pillar of Autumn_. The hills had seemed so welcoming and serene, but were transformed into rather hellish landscapes in which they were constantly pounding over with no chance of resting. They had also faced capture three times previously. Luckily, each time Corporal Wilkins and his Marines managed to blow a hole through the Covenant's net and lead them to safety, and each time, Captain Keyes credited _himself_ for the rescue efforts.

_My name is Captain Keyes_, _but how much longer can _I_ afford to save my crew_, he wondered to himself. The constant running and the general being on the lam lowered nearly everyone's endurance, not to mention morale. For reasons untold, Keyes was used to being on the lam, so it barely affected him. He also spent a day being a squatter with his daughter Miranda. She did so for a week, until her father joined her to be "one of the cool kids". Then she decided it was time to stop. Living voluntarily on the streets for one day and spending time with Miranda helped teach him a few survival skills.

Abiad, Hikowa, and Lovell were in pretty good shape, as was Singh and Wang, but Dowski was already showing signs of crackitude. It had started with petty whining every so once in a while, then it grew to a stream of complaints, and then threatened to escalate into something even worse.

They had taken cover in a dry grotto by now. Wang _was_ kneeling by a thin, dirt-choked stream that passed through the grotto, trying to search for "alien marine life"……until Abiad started shoving his head under the water and attempting to drown him, but then pulling his back up and declaring, "I saved your life!" Singh was busy filling the party's canteens and Dowski sat on a rock and ridiculed everything.

"They _know_ where we are," she said, making it sound like it was all Keyes's fault.

Keyes growled, growing tired of the ignorant young Techie. "My name is Captain Keyes, they know where we are, _sir_," he corrected.

"Okay!" the Ensign replied. "They know where we are, _sir_. So why continue to run? They're gonna find us in the end! _All is lost_!_ We're gonna die_!_ Abandon ship_!"

Keyes grabbed a hold of the Ensign. "My name is Captain Keyes and for God's sake, take a chill pill, Dowski!" he advised, shaking the young Techie. "My name is Captain Keyes, now……I've been in contact with both Cortana _and_ 'Ellsley. My name is Captain Keyes and they're both busy at the moment, but they'll send help as soon as they can. My name is Captain Keyes, so—"

"—Oh, _'Ellsley_? He's finished. You can't trust him as fast as you can load him……that's what _she_ said!" Lovell said.

"……My name is Captain Keyes and you _do_ have a point, son."

"Why are we doing this?! So _you_ can make Admiral?" Dowski blurted out.

"My name is Captain Keyes and _no_!" Keyes said defensively as he tried to avert his eyes from hers.

"Oh my God, you are an _idiot_!" Lieutenant Hikowa yelled. (S)he normally was quick to quarrel so this wasn't new for anyone. "Firstly, the Captain will be addressed with the honorific 'sir'. You will use that honourific, or I will plant my foot in your ass—"

"—That'swhathesaid—" Lovell blurted quickly.

Captain Keyes placed his hands on his hips and looked heroic during the part in Hikowa's monologue that he was mentioned. "My name is Captain Keyes, you go, man-woman!"

"Even though he does forget that _I am indeed_ a woman."

"You're a girl?!" Abiad asked.

"That's what _she_ said……" Lovell remarked with a cheeky nod.

Hikowa rolled her/his eyes and grunted. "_Secondly_, use your damn brain, assuming that you _have _one! The Covenant doesn't take prisoners, so we're completely screwed either way!"

"_I'm_ menstruating! Which means that _I _have _an excuse_ to blame _all _of my problems _and_ emotions on for the next five days!" Dowski said, pointing an accusing finger at the lieutenant.

"Imunna pee in your canteen when you're not looking!" Singh threatened, pointing at Dowski.

"Oh, _he'll do it_, too! He's a _baaaaaad _seed!" Lovell said with a nod.

"Singh! You're _not_ supposed to _tell_ someone when you're gonna do that," Hikowa said, frustrated.

"Well, menstruate _this_!" Singh said, inserting the barrel of his M6D into the Ensign's left ear. "I reckon you're starting to look an awful lot like a Grunt……Lovell, check her face! I bet it peels right off!"

"Dude, no, she'd look more like a Jackal or something," Abiad corrected.

"Oh, I'll check more than her face!" he said excitedly. "Oh! That's what _he_—"

"—SHUT _UP_, LOVELL!" everyone said.

Keyes ignored the quarreling naval officers and thought about just how much he wanted a pair of combat boots like the Marines had. He looked over at a Marine who was sitting by the entrance and then down to a large rock that was sitting by his right foot. He picked it up, looked from the rock to the soldier a few times, and a cheeky smile spread across his face. His grin subsided and he dropped the rock as Hikowa addressed him.

"What do you think, sir?" (s)he asked. He turned around and studied at the scene in front of him. Hikowa stood with her/his hands on her/his hips, Singh screwed his weapon into the Ensign Dowski's ear, and Lovell was feeling her up. He tried to stifle his laughter as much as he could as he silently wished he had a camera. He hoped that one of the Marines was recording this on his helmet-cam.

"My name is Captain Keyes……are you getting this?" he whispered to the Marine he almost considered eighty-sixing.

"I'm _waaaaaay_ ahead a'you, Cap'n," he said with a nod as he tapped the side of his helmet.

The Banshee whined loudly as it passed overhead for the second time. If they were going to move, they had better do it, and soon.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I decree that we take her weapons, hogtie her, and leave her in this here cave," he stated.

"You're gonna _leave_ me? _Here_? All by myself? With no supplies?" she asked.

"My name is Captain Keyes and absolutely! My name is Captain Keyes but I'm sorry……you're more of a liability than an asset, hope you understand," he concluded with a shrug. "My name is Captain Keyes, Singh, get to work……"

"_Nice_!" he said as he rubbed his hands together, shoved a battle dressing into the Ensign's mouth, slapped a piece of all-purpose repair tape over her mouth, and hogtied her. Corporal Wilkins appeared as he made his way down the streambed. He was sitting on top of a brutish Marine, using a pair of old shoelaces as a set of reigns. He looked over at Dowski, nodded as if everything was normal, and looked to Captain Keyes.

"The Covenant are almost here, milord. A dropship landed a squadron of Elites about a kilometer away, I suggest that we move _now_," he said, pretending to be a knight.

The repetitive naval officer nodded. "My name is Captain Keyes, thank you good Sir Knight, the command team is ready, please lead the way."

Sir Wilkins held out his assault weapon as if holding Excalibur. The Marine he was sitting on reared and whinnied. "Then we shallst quest for the grail that is safety from the Covenant! Come, my brothers!" Apparently, the heat and exhaustion had finally gotten to him.

The Master Chief whipped the Warthog around the corner into the side of a cliff. The tunnel present there was _huge_.

"This cave is not a natural formation. Someone built it, so it must lead somewhere," Cortana said.

"Well, _that_ goes without saying," the Master Chief replied.

Once inside, things became a little more difficult. It was significantly darker than the outside world and he was forced to steer the LRV around a series of tight turns and ramps.

"I'm picking up traffic on the Covenant battle net. They're _actually_ broadcasting tactical data on unencrypted channels. We should show them who they're dealing with. Master Chief, I'm going to use your suit's transcomm. system to monitor their chatter," Cortana stated. The Warthog's headlights swung across ancient walls as he turned the wheel. The LRV turned onto a ramp that led to a large open area dotted with mysterious installations, not to mention Covenant troops.

Drawing his sidearm, he exited the vehicle and turned to the Marine.

"Stay put, I'm going to see if I can snipe some of the bastards," he said quietly.

"Okay!" Fitzgerald said loudly. It echoed in the tunnels. The Master Chief karate-chopped the back of one of Fitzgerald's knees.

"Ow! Sorry," he said much quieter as he collapsed into the LAAG.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other," the Spartan said, clicking the safety off the pistol and creeping forward.

He managed to get down to the end of the ramp unnoticed. He saw an Elite strolling over a road-like section of the floor. Taking into consideration the copious amounts of Grunts and Jackals in the area, that was the only Elite in the vicinity, and the biggest threat. He zoomed in on the tall alien with the scope, fired seven headshots, and watched the warrior topple over. The Grunts and Jackals panicked, but didn't notice him, thankfully. He let out a barrage upon the remaining Covenant after taking a moment to reload and was just about to finish off a Jackal that rolled to one side, when the Warthog whirred by him.

"What the?!" he exclaimed as he saw Fitzgerald skid to a halt, climb over the seats clumsily, and take up his position at the LAAG again.

"What are you doing?!" the Chief demanded.

"Helpin' you out, sir!" the Marine answered. Fitzgerald opened up a can of 12.7x99 mm rounds for the Covenant. Spent shell casings rained over the area. The Chief watched, frustrated. He looked around the dimly lit area, observing what was visible in the scarce light, and reloaded his weapon for the third time.

A Grunt popped out from behind a support pillar, holding a pulsing plasma pistol. It yelled "doink!" as it released a white-green orb that came sailing right towards the vehicle.

The Chief returned fire and dropped back behind the Warthog. "Fitzgerald! Don't stop firing!" he ordered.

"WHAT?!" he yelled, nearly deafened by the constant roar of the M41.

The Master Chief shook his head as he was about to charge ahead. However, was stopped in his tracks as he picked up motion from behind them. The thundering of the LAAG ceased as he heard Fitzgerald give a yelp of pain.

A shard of glassy, translucent, and pink material tapered to a wicked point protruded from the Marine's bicep. The shard glowed a ghostly purple. "I'm _not_ on the playground anymore," Fitzgerald said painfully as he tried to regain his footing. Two seconds later, the glass shard exploded and blood sprayed from his arm. Fitzgerald screamed in agony.

"Rub some dirt in it," the Master Chief said as he turned in the direction in which more glassy shards had flown. He sent a trio of bullets into the Grunt to the right which made neat pockets in his chest. The Grunt's partner squealed in anger and returned fire, sending a barricade of shards in his direction.

He sidestepped, missing the shards, and pistol-whipped the Grunt in the head.

Fitzgerald had crawled back behind the Warthog. He was pale and repeating, "there's no place like home" over and over again. The Spartan grabbed the first-aid kit and prepared to treat the wound.

"Wait……you hafta put the nurse tiara on," Fitzgerald said.

"Um, no," the petty officer answered.

"No, you gotta do it, or I'm letting myself bleed to death and then the guilt of losing me will haunt you forever……"

The Master Chief sighed irately and put the stupid thing on, figuring he'd rather endure a degrading thirty seconds than risk losing his only gunner.

"_Now_ are you okay?" he asked the young Marine when he finished. Fitzgerald nodded and crawled back up to his position behind the LAAG.

After a sweep of the area that took about six minutes, he found out that the room stretched a good few meters and came to a sudden drop-off to a seemingly bottomless pit.

"Any ideas?" he asked of Cortana.

The AI took a moment to examine the data. "There must be _some_ sort of bridge mechanism to get across this gap. Look for a control panel or switch."

He nodded, turned around, and went back near the Warthog but decided to examine the right of the room more closely. As he passed the vehicle, he called out to Fitzgerald over his shoulder. "Sit tight. I'm going to find us a way across."

"Yes, mommy," he heard the Marine reply.

_Drama queen_, the Spartan thought.

The Master Chief made careful inspection of all the pillars and other odd obstacles that dotted the area. He frowned. Nothing seemed to be of any help. They were all fixed with light-panels that served as fake-out control panels. The Chief felt kind of stupid when he actually touched one of them and nothing happened. He moved as far enough to the wall as he could, checking every nook and cranny. He followed the wall and eventually, was rewarded with an archway. The Spartan drew his assault rifle and crept up the ramp.

He noticed a red dot on his motion sensor, a dot that was right on top of him. He ducked around the corner and came face-to-face with a crimson-armoured Elite. Make that _two_ crimson-armoured Elites. They didn't show any signs of an attack, though, but instead looked highly surprised at the human's sudden appearance.

"OMFP! A human!!111" one stated.

"Wat he doin hurr?" the other asked.

"IDK."

"Wat now? i thght orders wurr n/a?"

"BTR! u hags 2 pay morr tention!" the argument continued.

"They seem to be talking in some unknown dialect. I'll see if I can translate it," Cortana said.

"Don't bother," he said bluntly, and was about to load a clip into the first alien, when out of no-where, the second swung his plasma rifle at him. He just barely evaded the blow, but his shields dropped. Without bothering to aim, he fired wildly. The Elites strafing and scampering with amusement hollered more unnecessary abbreviations.

In one motion, the Master Chief pulled the pin on a frag grenade and practically dropped it at the alien soldier's feet. He heard one Elite yell, "WTF?!" as he ducked behind the corner. He was rewarded with a flash of smoke and fire. A spray of purple blood splashed the metal wall as he heard a scream and saw one Elite fly over his head. He rounded the corner and saw the other's smoking corpse.

"At least _I_ have enough decency to _say_ all of my words _exactly_ as they are," he taunted.

He followed the path down for a few seconds and came to a ledge. Just before the drop off, there was a small light panel on a podium to his left. He took a moment to scan the panel. This was clearly what he had been looking for. A series of hieroglyphs and other symbols floated a good inch or two off of the panel and the Master Chief couldn't make right or rain of anything. He extended one finger and went for the focal point of the panel, a blue-green circle. It was the prettiest so he figured aesthetics wouldn't fail him. He expected his finger to pass right through the almost transparent panel, but was surprised when it met the control and it began to pulse more quickly.

There was a high-pitched whine and from the point he was at, he could see the gap in the roadway. At the edges, harsh white light sprang into view, forming a bridge across the hefty gap.

"How did you know what button to push?" Cortana inquired.

"I didn't……let's get the hell out of here," he stated.

Riley 'Bodensee saw it very hard to function. Too many thoughts of the carnage of actual war and the predicament he was in troubled him mightily. He decided to try and settle his thoughts and maybe take a nap before his first assignment. He made his way back to the rookie Elite sleeping quarters and fell into his cot. He turned on his old fashioned record player and listened to his favourite LP, the "TIME/LIFE Treasury of Christmas". Out of all of Earth's studies in which he had read about, the human holidays and religions were among his favourite subjects.

Riley was aroused about an hour later by his squad leader, Butsch 'Scosamee, shoving him out of his hover-cot. He was a big Elite with white armour.

"What are you doing lazing around?! Go with the other soldiers to the armoury and then to the ship that will take you to the surface of the holy ring. Make haste and _do not_ be a unit late!" 'Scosamee spat quickly and then strode out of the area, snapping at other Elites on the way out. Riley got up from the ground and brushed himself off.

"Talk about a rude awakening," he said to himself and then managed a bout of his slow machine-gun laughter. "Aw nuts, I crack myself up."

He got in file behind the other Elites and followed them to the armoury. Once there, he charged up his plasma rifle, which still functioned quite poorly, and grabbed his plasma grenade belt. Marvin 'Archeree casually leaned up against the grenade belt dock.

"Hello, '_Archeree_," Riley said with no emotion as he fastened his around his waist.

"Hello, _Riley_. I did not think _you _would actually _show up_ today. You sure you know how to _use_ that?" he asked Riley, chuckling to himself.

_Gosh, even _I_ know what _this_ is for_, Riley thought to himself, ignoring Marvin.

"Get out of my way! And _that_ is an order from a _superior_," Marvin said, roughly shoving Riley out of the way as he passed. Riley didn't do anything in return, seeing as no matter how much of a jerk he was to him, Marvin _still_ outranked him, and that made retaliation a difficult endeavor.

He made a quick stop to the lavatory before following everyone onto the lift. After taking care of business, Riley spent the next few minutes snarling and making a variety of horrid faces in the mirror. After deciding on which one he liked best, he followed the other Elites to the docking bay, and onto the ship that would take him to the battleground.

It was very cramped in the troop bay of the dropship. The place was tense with adrenaline rushed Elites, Jackals, Grunts, and one Hunter. Luckily enough, he sat next to Peter and James.

"Hey guys, how ya doin'?" he asked quietly.

"All right, the same as always," Peter shrugged.

"What's the dizzle witcha, G?" James asked.

"I'm a little nervous dawg, but I've been thinking, and……I should try to sneak out of this like I always do, for reals and sureeus," he said with a nod.

"Riley! You can't do that, that's suicide! The Prophet has eyes all over the place. If you fail at what they assigned you, you'll be as good as dead," Peter whispered.

"Well, I—psh—wha—what's a hugger supposed to do in a shooter situation?!" he whispered back.

"You just have to kill people, no matter how much you want to hug them. It's not ship science," Peter said. "You might wanna think about taking your glasses off and putting your contacts in."

Riley stared at Peter hard for a few seconds and he sighed angrily, like the valley-girl he was at heart. He took off his scholarly glasses, put them in his battle harness, and took out his contact case and eye drops. He squeezed some in his eye, gave a yelp of fake pain, and gently inserted them. After that, he was forced to sit and wait, something that Riley didn't do……ever. The ship ride was immensely long and boring to Riley, so he did what he did best……

"AH! GEE FORCE!" he yelled suddenly, yanking at what parts of his face he could around his helmet. There was commotion as a few soldiers turned to look at him or to find out who made the exclamation and then everyone promptly continued to ignore him, or groan in dissatisfaction. He was the only one who was laughing. It was the only thing that could be heard other than the whirring of the engine. "No? No……" he said, ceasing his laughter and looking at the ground.

The ship finally stopped and the large door swung open slowly. 'Scosamee yelled an order to move out and everyone followed through.

"Welcome to army life, Riley," Peter said. James playfully punched him twice on the arm as the whole mess of troops jumped down onto the surface of Halo. Riley took in a deep breath as he jumped down onto the tall and dusty canyon.

Everyone scattered, listening to 'Scosamee's commands.

"Any of you guys see Org today?" Riley asked Peter and James.

"Org's roight 'ere," he said, running up to Riley's side.

"Oh! There you are! Where were you at?"

"I've been out 'ere for 'bout a cycle. Technically, ahm sapposed ta be way south, but I neva listen to tha Sangheili in chahge. E's a blue-ahmad fool wot thinks e's a Ship Mahsta er sommet," Org said. "No affense, Riley."

"None taken," he shrugged.

The troops pressed on for a while, Riley being fortunate enough to be selected to stay put, _in case_ the humans got through their forces. His friends weren't as lucky. They were chosen to be up front and no lower-class Covenant disobeyed commands given to them by high-ranking Elites.

"Psh, oh _this_ is _great_. _Just great_!" he said, sitting down behind a large boulder. "I'm in the mothathuggin' army again, my friends aren't even with me, and to top it all off……I think I left the water running in the lavatory," he said, thinking hard as he rested his head in one hand. After sitting for a while, he rose and peeked over his boulder. Two blue-armoured Elites were conversing a small ways away, a few Grunts were playing some sort of jumping game that made them look like losers, and there was a Hunter sitting all by his lonesome, bustin' some phat beatz to himself. It was a different Hunter and Riley had never though about telling him to switch places with James. After all, he _was_ ranked higher than the Hunters. He sat back down and leaned against the boulder again. He felt a pang of sorrow for the Lekgolo. They were always being picked on, had separate drinking fountains, and had to give up their seats in dropships for Elites.

"I am _soooooo_ bored," he said to himself, gently hitting the back of his head against the rock. He leaned over and started doodling in the dirt with one of his claws. He drew a picture of the human actress Julie Andrews hitting Orna 'Fulsamee over the head with a folding chair and Jerry Seinfeld impaling Bako 'Ikaporamee on a microphone stand. He had a speech bubble coming out of his head that read: "you ever wonder how it feels to get impaled by a comedian?!" When he finished, he sat up and admired his art work. He laughed a bit.

"Too bad I don't have a camera. I would've sent a picture to Cousin 'Jeremee. He would get a kick outta this," Riley remarked, shaking his head. He was bored once again. This time, he pulled his plasma rifle from its spot on his thigh armour. He examined it, got a proper hold of it, and tried to shoot a bolt of plasma at the cliff wall a few metres ahead of him. It flickered the first time, not even dripping any plasma. Riley frowned and tried again. Same thing. He made an angry noise similar to Curly from the Three Stooges and this time, it actually shot a bolt. It felt heavy though and pulling the trigger was a chore to begin with.

"It's _so_ ghetto," Riley said, shaking his head and putting it back on his thigh. He wondered how his friends were doing, if any humans were trying to make it through part of the canyon, or if they were under siege right that very second. Riley tried not to think about loosing his friends and leaned against the rock again. He shut his eyes, figuring he'd rest for a few. However, he was totally unaware of the oncoming human threat.

It took a good five minutes to convince Fitzgerald to cross the light bridge, but with a little perseverance and a bit of threatening, the Master Chief and the Marine were loaded up and speeding through the rest of the tunnels. They followed the tunnels out into a valley, where he guided the LRV along past a series of trees, rocks, and to the top of a grassy hill.

The vehicle splashed through the river as he aimed it up the small mound. He stopped to snipe three Jackals on a steep hill to the left who threatened to send unhappy plasma clusters their way.

It was only a matter of seconds before they arrived at the first lifeboat. Weapons were scattered all over and blood stained the ground, but there were no bodies.

"Look at this mess! The weapons locker must have opened on impact. There's weapons and supplies all over the place……but where's the bodies?" Fitzgerald axed.

_Good_,_ they must have made it out alive_, the Master Chief thought as he thoroughly searched around and inside the ship. He spotted an S2 AM Sniper Rifle lying on the ground and traded that for the pistol.

"I'd hate to do this to you, 'Colonial Bisquick', but _you_ never went to university," the Master Chief said, checking the Sniper Rifle to make sure it wasn't damaged or empty.

"Dude, who are you _talkin_'to?" Fitzgerald asked, looking over the LAAG.

"……If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

"I—don't—know! Stop playing games with my mind!" Fitzgerald cried out, grabbing the sides of his head.

"All right then, let's move out," he instructed as he took his seat behind the wheel and peeled the LRV straight ahead.

They whipped around a few tight turns and out into a clearing. The Master Chief spotted another UNSC lifeboat and a scattering of Covenant troops, but no Marines. Not a good sign. Another structure similar to the one he had encountered with Fire Team Charlie earlier dominated the center of the rolling green surroundings. He saw a pulse of light race towards the sky. He followed it with his eyes until it disappeared to a part of the ring that curved upward. There was only a moment to take action before a group of Jackals opened fire and the gunner returned the favour. The Master Chief turned the Warthog as the M41 LAAG thundered and rattled behind him.

"You like that? Have some more!" Marine Fitzgerald shouted as he loaded a pair of Grunts and a Jackal full of 12.7x99 mm slugs.

The LRV fish-tailed past the pyramidal structure as Cortana said, "there are some Marines hiding in the hills above the structure!"

An Elite strode arrogantly out in between two trees and hollered as the Warthog barreled straight for him.

"Bonsai!" Marine Fitzgerald shouted, punching his fist into the air again as the LRV hit the Elite head on and turned him into a speed bump.

The other Marines appeared soon after that. They peered from around boulders and trees in an eerie fashion, kind of like the Munchkins from the "Wizard of Oz". The Master Chief parked near a large boulder as they slowly began to materialize out of various hiding places.

"Whoa……this is creepy……" he said.

All of the Marines favoured him with wide-eyed looks as they gathered around the Warthog. They all looked towards the corpse of the crushed Elite underneath the LRV.

"He has saved us from the wicked aliens of the Covenant! Let us make merry!" the Sergeant said. All of the Marines began cheering, waving their assault rifles, and dancing around the vehicle.

"Suicide pact?" the Master Chief asked, turning around in his seat and extending his hand to Marine Fitzgerald.

"……What?" he answered, favouring him with a puzzled look.

"……Never mind." Above all the singing and merrymaking, he could hear a burst of static, followed by Foehammer's voice.

"_Echo four niiiiiineteen to Cortana_……_please cuuuuuum in_!"

"_We read you_,_ Echo 419_. _We have survivors and need immediate dust_-_off_."

"_Raaaaaahger_,_ Cortana_. _On my way_,_ I spotted additional lieeeeefeboats in your area_. _One near a roooooocksla-lyde_._ And anotha at the heaaaaaad of the riva_."

"_Acknowledged_," Cortana answered.

"Bagh!" a Marine yelled as he pointed to a Covenant dropship that was settling near the lifeboat. The Chief shook his head and pulled out his newly acquired Sniper Rifle.

It took the better half of the afternoon to check the interlocking valleys, locate the rest of the survivors, and deal with the Covenant forces that kept getting in the way. Finally, he and his trusty sidekick Marine Fitzgerald, managed to round up roughly thirteen Marines and naval personnel. The Spartan watched as Echo 419 landed for the last time.

"One moment," he told the Marines as he turned around, slammed a fresh magazine into "Valerie" and headed for the Warthog. He climbed into the driver's seat one last time. "I'm going to go make one more sweep. There's some ammo left in the second canyon." With that, the Warthog peeled out and he shot out of the valley and up a hill.

Captain Keyes sat with a small squad of Marines near the side of a cliff. They were all sitting in a circle deciding on what the hell they were going to do next.

"My name is Captain Keyes, and I barely know what the hell we should do next……but I just got _the_ coolest idea in the entire galaxy! My name is Captain Keyes and I can be a _superhero_! My name is Captain Keyes and I will be called _just that_! My name is Captain Keyes and you, Marine, _you_ can be my sidekick! My name is Captain Keyes and you can be called 'Earthboy'!" he said, grabbing a Marine around the neck and striking a heroic pose.

"Graviteeeeee, _ho_!" the Marine said as he punched a fist into the air. Captain Keyes lost interest and let him drop to the ground.

"Anyone know what time it is?" Abiad axed.

"Psh, _hammertime_," Lovell answered.

"We're stuck, aren't we?" Hikowa said, looking around.

"That's what she—sorry," he said as Hikowa glared at him.

"……Ha, ha, your life must suck, your last name is 'Wang'," Abiad chuckled immaturely.

"Shut _up_! It's a powerful last name! It's Japanese for 'hope'!"

"What are you talking about? You're not even Asian!" Singh retorted.

"My name is Captain Keyes, now listen……I'm going to sing you all a song that's helped _me_ get through all the tough times in my life," Keyes said, pulling an acoustic guitar from over his shoulder.

"Wait, where did you get that?" Wang asked.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I salvaged it from the lifeboat, duh! My name is Captain Keyes and I've had it on my back the whole time, where've _you _been?" he said as he started playing. Soon, he was singing the song "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash. It was a pretty legitimate choice, seeing as they were on a ring and there is a lot of fire when it comes to combat. Captain Keyes sounds _very_ similar to Johnny Cash when he sings. He had gotten well into the second verse, when a Covenant dropship appeared and loomed over them threateningly.

"My name is Captain Keyes……goddammit……"

The U-shaped ship touched down within a matter of seconds. A hatch opened and Ellen Dowski, renegade soldier and turn-coat extraordinaire, jumped down. Behind her, half a dozen Elites and a score of Grunts dropped down as well. One Elite in particular called out to the Marines in his loud and utterly masculine voice, more than a hint of distaste in his voice as he spoke in human tongues.

"You will drop your weapons……_now_, honkies!"

"_Dowski_! I thought we did away with you back in the cave!" "Earthboy" said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and now _isn't_ the time to get cocky, 'Earthboy'," Keyes answered on a sour note. He held up the guitar and called out to the Elite.

"MY NAME IS CAPTAIN KEYES AND ALL I HAVE IS THIS GUITAR AND THIS DEVILISHLY HANDSOME SIDEKICK!"

"Yeah, _right_! Which one?" the Elite demanded from Dowski.

"……The one with the square-shaped head," she answered, pointing at Keyes.  
"My name is Captain Keyes and my head is _not_ square-shaped!"

"Yes, it is! You're like one of the Blockheads from 'Gumby'."

"……_You're_ 'Gumby'!" Abiad said defensively, pointing in her direction. Hikowa rolled her eyes.

"My name is Captain Keyes……why, Dowski, _why_?"

"I'm sorry, _sir_. But you're more of a liability than an asset……hope you understand. Besides, you let Lovell sexually harass me!" she whined.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'm pretty sure Lovell has sexually harassed _every_ woman on the ship, this shouldn't be foreign to you."

"All aboard the 'Relations Ship' where you can be my abductee," Lovell agreed.

"Listen up, _human_! You are in _my _canyon, on _my_ ring!" the alien barked.

"You miserable slut!" Hikowa started forward to both the Elite and Dowski.

"Ooh! Cat fight, cat fight, cat fight!" Lovell hollered.

The Elite yanked a plasma pistol off of his thigh and shot her dead. Keyes attempted to tackle the Elite, but to no avail, he pistol-whipped the Captain, which sent him down for the count. Tossing his weapon in the air, he placed it back on his side.

"—Cat fight, cat—aw……" Lovell ended, sounding rather let down.

"Why you……hey! I didn't start my sentence with an introduction!" Keyes said triumphantly.

Wang tried to run, but was shot between the shoulder blades.

"You all _best not_ try your luck," the Elite said after the last bolt of plasma.

"Ha, I felt terrible for him. He got so teased because of his last name. You kinda put him out of his misery," Lovell said.

"He had it coming to him, just like _you_ do!" the Elite snapped, the glowing end of the pistol being shoved directly into his mug.

"……One last time?" Lovell asked Keyes.

"……Go ahead, Ensign."

"_THAT'S_ WHAT _SHE_ SAAAAAAID!" he sang with jazz hands right before he was shot in the face by the irate "wigger" Elite.

The only Marines that were left alive were Keyes and Dowski. The scent of burning flesh still hung deeply in the air as Keyes stumbled to his feet, dizzy and disoriented.

"I'll take your mom to school—" he said weakly as he tried to rush the Elite, but was pistol-whipped again. He painfully looked up at Dowski.

"……I didn't know sir, honest, I didn't. They told me—"

"—My name is……oh God, not again," he said mournfully.

"Shut up, cracker!" the Elite said, as he picked up Keyes's M6D and shot the renegade Marine with it. "And I _can _say that because _I _am _not_ white," the Elite reassured Keyes as he gestured to him with the M6D. "Move him out, boys," he said to two other Elites. Keyes felt them hoist him up by his arms and drag him up the ramp to the ship. Keyes, the only survivor left, severely wished he hadn't been. However, he was glad his last name wasn't "Wang".

The Master Chief had just loaded the last of the leftover ammunition from the crashed lifeboat into the Warthog, when his monitor blinked and showed one sign of life.

"……I knew it……" he said to himself.

He jumped out of the LRV, his metal boots making a muffle _whump _noise……a noise which startled Riley 'Bodensee and caused him to wake with a start.

Quickly surveying the area, he heard muffle footsteps as someone approached his boulder. "Oh spit, oh spit, oh spit, oh spit, oh spit!" he chanted quietly to himself as he placed his plasma rifle on the ground next to him and covered his head with his arms.

The Chief stopped in front the boulder and swiftly rounded it. He found himself pointing his rifle at a cowering Elite. Master Chief actually thought of the sight as pathetic for a moment. The Elite took his arms off of his head for a moment and glanced up at him. He laughed out of sheer terror and he struggled to find something to say. He had the most annoying laugh the Master Chief had ever heard.

"A-heh, heh, heh, um……hi?"

The armoured human didn't respond to the greeting.

"……Why are you smiling at me?" Master Chief inquired.

"……Would you rather I frown at you? It takes more muscles to frown than to smile, you know."

The Master Chief wasn't sure if this was some kind of trick or the Elite was _really_ just an enormous ninny.

"Why weren't you out there trying to fight me like the others?"

"……If you _must_ know, I _don't like_ fighting. I don't even want to _be here_ right now," the Elite said nervously.

"Why not? You're an Elite. You should be thirsty for my blood."

"Talk about profiling," the Elite said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe the _other_ Sangheili are. But I'm not. No joke. I wouldn't mess around with a warrior such as you."

"Nobody likes a suck up."

"Wait, what did you call me?"

"Um, an Elite? That's what the humans call, um, 'your species'," Master Chief said.

"Oh, really? Hm……interesting. You know what you're called in my language……well, actually, we don't use that very often, anymore. We use the duragitory word 'shizno', nowadays. My uncles say that a lot. I yell at them for it."

"……You're one strange alien," Master Chief said.

"You _are_ pretty intimidating though. I _will_ say that. My name's Riley 'Bodensee," he said with a smile.

"……If you're so anti-war, why do you have a weapon?" he inquired angrily, pointing at the ancient plasma rifle with his assault rifle.

"Oh, you mean my 'ghettoblaster?'" Riley asked.

"……What?"

"Yeah, here," Riley said, taking the plasma rifle. Master Chief cocked "Valerie" just in case this _was_ a trick. Riley pointed it at the cliff wall and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He tried again, and again, and again. Nothing.

"Argh! It won't work! IT'S _SOOOOOO_ GHETTO!" he shouted, beating it roughly with one hand and then proceeding to throw it as hard and far as he could. It hit the opposite cliff wall and tumbled to the ground.

"……Now you don't have a weapon," Master Chief said.

"The thing _clearly_ didn't work to begin with," Riley stated.

"……All right then. The only threat you seem to pose is to yourself……I'm going to leave now," Master Chief said.

"Hey, I have a _great_ idea! I'll hang out with _you_!" Riley suggested, hurrying up to Master Chief's side.

"I don't think so."

"Aw! Why not? I really don't want to stand here and be forced to look at my mangled companions."

"……Because I don't want you to. That's life."

"Oh, c'mon! It'll be super, super fun!"

The Master Chief thought about this. If he could use the Elite to his advantage to let him know of troop placements or information that Cortana couldn't give him, it might work out. However, it was strictly against the mission's code and his moral code, and there wasn't much Cortana didn't know. He figured he'd take him back to the Pelican and the Marines could take him prisoner. _That's_ always fun.

"All right. You can come with me."

"Yay!"

"_But_……you have to _shut up_ and do _exactly_ as I say, _got it_? You're a prisoner of war now."

"Yes, sir!" Riley said, nodding.

"Good," the Master Chief said. He turned around and got into the Warthog. Riley followed close as his heels. "If you do _anything_ out of step, I'm bashing your head in."

"Hey, you never told me _your_ name," Riley said, climbing into the passenger seat. He even put his seatbelt on, like a good Elite. See? Wearing seatbelts is _fun_. If "Halo" themed characters do it, it _must_ be right. This issue can't be stressed enough.

"I know."

"You should, seeing as we're friends now."

"Whoa, you found an alien?!" Marine Fitzgerald said.

"……Oh my gosh! A real live human!"

"……Rahr?" Fitzgerald made a clawing gesture

"Ooh, tell me what it's like on your planet!" Riley exclaimed with ample excitement.

"……It's polluted!" Fitzgerald answered happily.

"Um, what do you think _I_ am?" the Master Chief inquired.

"Oh, well……I just figured you were like, a 'RoboCop' kinda……thing. What's _your_ name?" Riley asked, turning his attention back to the Marine.

"……'Mudd' Fitzgerald, but that's what they called me on the playground!"

"Wow. Is that like 'Muddy Waters'? Are you in a blues band and when you sing, does it sound like you can't go to the bathroom?"

"I _wish_."

"Fitzgerald, stop talking to the alien," the Chief ordered calmly.

"Aw, why?"

"Don't make me come back there," the Chief answered, making a start to crawl over the seat. Fitzgerald yelped and hid behind the LAAG.

"……Can I call _you_ 'the Incredible Dr. Anthrax'?" Riley asked.

"……Never."

Riley sighed in frustration. "……How 'bout, John? That's a good human name."

The Master Chief whipped around sharply.

"Or like, Billy, or Ned, or Jarvis—"

"—_No_."

"Ah! Yes, sir!" Riley yelling, cowering again.

"_I_ like Jarvis, myself," Fitzgerald suggested.

"_Don't_ humour him."

The Master Chief glared at him through his thick visor and pressed on. Master Chief thought. Secretly, he wished the Elite _would_ call him John. He thought about his real name, about how no one who knew that was alive, about the other children he had known in the Spartan program, about how frightfully cliché and common it was.

"……So, what happens if you sneeze in that big helmet? Does it get all gross? Does it make you hate yourself? Ew, I don't want to even think about it!"

"Then why bring it up?"

"You _obviously_ can't understand the complex mechanism of my mind," Riley sniffed.

"Yeah, I was kinda wondering about that myself," Fitzgerald added.

"_What_ did I tell you?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

They had driven for a short period of time. _Too_ long in the eyes of Riley. He occupied his time by going on about random topics that nothing to do with, well, anything.

"—And _then_ he says to me, 'Riley, I hope the next time someone's paintin' a wall, you go over and lick it when it's still wet!' Psh, my uncle is _so mean to me_. I'm _afraid_ of that Sang, for reals and sureeus. I love my aunt though, he's a dear. Good with technology, _baaad_ with cooking. Did you know I'm one of the _only_ Sangheili, _only Sangheili_, that isn't obsessed with the whole 'purple and blue thing'? Frankly, blurple is a good combo for Covenant military because it's distinguishing, but it gets old after a while. Do you get me? Do you feel me?" Riley continued.

"Oh God, _make it stop_,_ please_," the Master Chief said to himself.

"Wow, that guys sounds like a real jerkface," Fitzgerald commented.

"He sometimes can be, but you know, he's my uncle and I love him—which reminds me! Did you also know that I—"

"—Wait……you said 'he' when referring to your _aunt_," the Master Chief pointed out.

"A-_duh_!" Riley said quickly, as if nothing could be plainer.

"So……what about females? Are your relatives homosexual?"

"What about _who_? I'm-I'm confused, what? What is that?" Riley asked.

"Don't you have any women in your race?"

"Um……I don't know what you're _talking about_. Everyone is sexually the same in my race," Riley said, sounding disturbed and uneasy with the petty officer's question.

"……Nevermind," Chief grumbled.

"If you come from a planet with all guys, how do you make babies?" Fitgerald axed.

"To be perfectly honest, _I_ don't even know," Riley answered.

"I said _nevermind_," the Spartan said, louder.

"……What's _this_ do?" Riley asked, reaching for a panel next to the radar system near the steering wheel.

"Don't touch," Master Chief said, slapping the Elite's hand away roughly.

Riley frowned and rubbed the top of his hand. "……What's _this_ do?" he inquired again, flipping a lever between the two seats.

"_Don't_ touch," Master Chief ordered once more. Riley craned his long neck around and caught sight of the LAAG in the back seat for the first time.

"OoOoOoh! What's _that_ do?! Is that a gun?"

"It _sure is_," Fitzgerald said cheekily.

"……I was talking about this big thing here," Riley said in a disturbed tone as he pointed to the LAAG.

"……Oh, um……don't tell my fiancé about this."

"Don't _make me_ turn this LRV around. I'll dump you were I found you and shoot you behind that rock, like I was _going_ to do."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just curious," Riley defended innocently. He kept quiet again. "The Incredible Dr. Anthrax" was apparently no man to mess with.

The Master Chief and Riley reached the Pelican after a few more minutes of motor-mouthed travel. The Marines were sitting inside and acknowledged him when he arrived. When it came into view, Master Chief stopped the Warthog by the Pelican, jumped out, and took Riley by the neck, pulling him along by his side.

"_Oh_, I think _I_ know where you're going with this," Riley said, roughly placing his hand on the Master Chief's rear. He shook Riley violently off of him.

"_Never _do that again," he stated angrily.

"Look, I'm sorry! _You're_ the one that was gettin' all touchy-feely!" Riley said putting his hands up.

The Marines all looked out, weapons in hand.

"Got something for us, Chief?" someone asked.

"Yes, but he's very, very annoying. We're taking him back to the base for interrogation, seeing as he likes to talk so much," Master Chief instructed, handing Riley over.

"Traitor! _I thought what we had was special_!" Riley said as he was roughly man-handled by two Marines as they dragged him into the Pelican.

The Master Chief didn't answer as he watched the Marines shove Riley 'Bodensee to the floor.

"I suggest you bound his mouth, or mouths, somehow. He won't stop talking," he said to the Marine closest to the alien as he chose a seat inside the dropship. The ramp closed and the Pelican lifted off. The Marines all snickered as they used the alien as a footrest.

"Hey, um, guys? Could you not, like, put yer feet on me? You're boots are kinda hurty and my guess is that they're probably covered in all sorts of germs or blood or something," Riley asked politely.

"Yeah, you might get AIDS," a soldier laughed as he high-fived another.

"Um……I don't know what that means……but I'm guessing it doesn't stand for Awesome and Incredibly Delicious Sundaes," Riley sighed.

The squadron who had captured Captain Keyes first delivered him to Zuka 'Zamamee, who had just exited his meeting with the Council of Expected Excommunication. Having his request to search and destroy the "human with the special armour" as he had asked for been denied, he was feeling a tad irate and he figured that the next best thing to finding the human himself was to ask the official-looking one. _He_ would know.

"You there! Tell me where I can find the human who wears the special armour!" he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Keyes.

"……My name is Captain Keyes and I don't know. My name is Captain Keyes and you can kiss my well-oiled, Navy ass."

All of the Covenant in the general area joined a chorus of "OoOoOoh" simultaneously. 'Zamamee, looking highly offended, took two steps forward and backhanded the human across the face. Keyes felt a trickled of blood slide down from the corner of his mouth.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I say go ahead, do your worst! My name is Captain Keyes, but I've still got the power of the 'Punisher' to back me up!"

'Zamamee thought about taking his life right there and then. He slowly placed his hand on the pistol butt, but took it away. "He is not going to talk. See if the Ship Master will break him. If he is to no avail, kill him," he growled to the other Covenant and turned his back sharply, striding away quickly. The Jackals who had brought him in dragged Keyes to the last hallway of the detention wing. They tossed Keyes in the last of a row of three. It was sealed by a translucent force field instead of bars.

"You will be held here until the Ship Master arrives," the cocky Elite who had done the slaughter of the Marines said. "Get cozy!"

Two imposing Elites in gold and silver armour strode into the room quite a few minutes later. They had taken their precious time getting to the detention station. They also had two black-armoured Elites with them.

"Retrieve him," the one with gold armour said bitterly.

Keyes guessed this was the Ship Master the others had been boasting about. The black-clad Elites deactivated the force field, roughly seized him, and removed him from his cell. The Elite in silver, which he presumed to be a second-in-command of some sort, brought forth a chair and some rope. _My name is Captain Keyes_,_ oh_,_ they're going to do this "olde skool" style_, Keyes thought to himself. He was briskly and tightly fastened to the chair in a matter of seconds. The Ship Master took a moment to size up the hostage. His assistant placed one heavily armoured boot on the seat of the chair, close to Keyes's rear, and stared him down scornfully.

"……I am going to ask you, human, and I expect you to _cooperate_! My patience is thin today……where is the human with the special armour?" 'Fulsamee said through gritted fangs.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'll _never_ tell!" he said aloud.

"Whore!" 'Fulsamee roared as he bitch-slapped Captain Keyes. Throughout the course of the trip on the ring, he had seen a variety of pimp-hands, and this guy's was by far the best.

"My name is Captain Keyes……and your pimp-hand is better than the last alien I've encountered," he said as he felt another trickle of blood escape the corner of his mouth.

"Nekcif sella!" 'Fulsamee cursed openly in his native tongue and then sharply turned back to Keyes. "Where is the human with the special armour?!"

"……"

This time, it was 'Ikaporamee who did the backhanding.

"Where is the human with the special armour?! Talk, damn you!"

"……"

A black-clad Elite whore-handed him. They were taking turns now.

"……You are very noble _human_, but that is the _only_ credit I will give you."

"My name is Captain Keyes and I'm not very fond of _you_ either."

"……Perhaps, there _is_ a way to break you," 'Fulsamee thought out loud.

"My name is Captain Keyes and Isayit again_, do—your—worst_."

"Oh, I _do_ believe you will find our undertaking _suitable_," 'Fulsamee chortled. He marched over to a panel, pressed a few buttons, and studied the monitor. "Help me hack the monitor 'Bodensee uses," he said to 'Ikaporamee.

Captain Keyes strained to see what they were hacking. He wondered what "Bodensee" meant, or who it was. Not being too familiar with Covenant last names or major lakes in Germany, he had scarcely a clue. He made a hypothesis that it was an acronym for some kind of advanced torture device, but he was ready for any physical pain they were about to bring down upon him. Keyes listened intently to their chatter. Both Ship Master and assistant were speaking in their own language. Every so once in a while, they would make what he thought to be a rude remark, chuckle, or various comments along those lines. Eventually, both Elites laughed heartily as they obviously selected something. 'Fulsamee touched another button to the side and what was displayed on the panel in front of him instantly adjusted itself to run on the back on the monitor, facing Keyes. Keyes knew this was clearly not of Covenant origin, but seemed more that of Earth. All the Elites donned devices that hooked to the side of their helmets.

"Let us see how long the 'noble' human can muster _this_……" 'Fulsamee said with a dark chuckle. He punched one last button slowly. Nanoseconds later, with the volume set pretty high, a song started to play. He recognized the song from the start……oh, did he recognize it. It was none other than Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots". On more than one occasion, he read about this same exact song being used to drive maniacs who think they're Jesus out of warehouses, spies to talk, and kittens to climb out of trees.

Captain Keyes listened in awe, wondering _who the hell_ had actually let her _record_ this tripe. It lasted barely three minutes, but to the Captain's utmost horror, it reeled _again_. Just when he thought the damn thing was _finally_ over for the second time, it reeled _again_. He yelled out, writhing around in the chair, making every attempt he could to break free of his bonds.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I want you to _turn it off_!" he screamed.

'Fulsamee and 'Ikaporamee smiled. Using the devices to block out the sound of Frank Sinatra's untalented daughter, they turned to one another and high-fived.

"Finally, 'Bodensee is actually helping instead of hurting……" 'Fulsamee grinned.

Captain Keyes had to endure roughly and hour of the same song, when the Elites finally turned it off. Mouth agape and roughly thirty points of his IQ knocked off, he sat in what felt like a vegetative state.

"Had enough?" 'Fulsamee asked, sidling closer to Keyes.

"My name is Captain Keyes……and I can't feel my brain."

"……Pity. The human cannot even bare to listen to his own creation," 'Fulsamee chuckled. "……Are you going to tell us the whereabouts of your super warrior yet?" he tempted.

"My name is Captain Keyes……must—resist—terrible—song's—powers……" Keyes struggled against the sheer, mind-numbingly horrid vocal stylistics. "My name is Captain Keyes……I still won't tell……" he managed to say.

'Fulsamee narrowed his glare. This human was _very_, _very_ annoying. Growling loudly to himself, he ordered the black-clad Elites to toss Keyes back in his cell in his native tongue.

"Guard the human!" he snapped to one of his guards. The particular warrior activated his camouflage and vaporized into thin air. The Ship Master turned back to the jailed Keyes. "Do not worry……we will find something else to torment you with. You will not leave this craft without spilling your guts……and I do _not_ only mean that figuratively!" he growled, turning towards the door and leaving abruptly.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR SCORE**

**D+ 17:11:04 (SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock)/ Pelican Echo 419, in flight.**

**(You know what? Me and Foehammer are the only black people on this ring)**

**(OMG ur right, Sarge!)**

**(Yeah, what's up wiiiiiith that?)**

Fifty meters above the deck, shrouded with electronic camouflage, the Master Chief and a Pelican-load of Helljumpers waited to land and begin a daring rescue of their beloved Captain. If the rescue team _did_ managed to infiltrate the Covenant ship, the _Truth and Reconciliation_, and steal back the stolen Captain Keyes, the human presence on Halo would be ultimately transformed from an attempt to merely survive to a full-fledged resistance movement. Revolt, rebel, rebuild.

The Master Chief took what opportunity he had to analyze the Marines around him. They were Helljumpers, the same people in which Major Silva had said would ultimately win the war because he's blatantly prejudice against Spartans and cyborgs. Given the choice, he would _definitely_ join a Human Supremacy Group. They only thing that mattered was getting to the gravity lift and rescuing Captain Keyes and he was glad to have help. Even with the ODST on his side, things were bound to get pretty hot by the time they reached the ship. By then, a Pelican full of regular Marines would assist on the assault on the ship itself.

There was some concern that the _Truth and Reconciliation_ might lift off when they got there, but Cortana had been monitoring the Covenant battle net and was positive that critical repairs were still being carried out aboard the alien cruiser.

Foehammer's voice came over the intercom. "_We are fiiiiiive minutes to dirt_……_repeat_,_ fiiiiiive to dirt_."

"Damn, that gets annoying," one Helljumper commented.

Sergeant Parker glared in the general direction of the solider and stood to address his troops.

"Okay boys and girls……lock and load. The Covenant is throwing a party and you are _all_ invited. Remember, the Master Chief goes in first, so take your cues from him. I don't know about you, but I _like_ having a swabbie on point."

"Um, Sergeant?"

"……What _now_?"

"What's up with the 'Covenant throwing a party' thing? Major Silva does it too. Do you like, aspire to be like him, cuz it would seem that way."

Sergeant Parker didn't answer right away. There was general laughter, because it was partially true, whether Parker honed up to it or not.

"……Well, perhaps _you're_ too busy acting like a smartass to do your job like the other Helljumpers!" he barked.

The Master Chief chuckled as he reviewed the plan. It was simple. He was supposed to sneak ahead of the Helljumpers and take care of whatever he could with his S2 AM Sniper Rifle. He had named this rifle "Rollo". The naming of a newly acquired gun was a special thing that he and the other Spartans did on Reach and old habits don't die quickly. Another important point that needs to be mentioned. Once the element of surprise had been up, he planned to switch back to "Valerie" to help them clean up.

"_Thiiiiiirty seconds 'til dirt. Shoot some of the baaaaaastards for me_!" Foehammer announced. As the Pelican hovered a few feet above the ground, Sergeant Parker yelled, "Go, go, go!" and the Master Chief was the first to charge down the ramp. The Helljumpers thundered down the ramp right behind him. It was dark, which meant that the only light they had to work by was the glow of the moon, Basis, which hung in the sky and the dim luminescence of Covenant work lights scattered throughout the area.

The Master Chief heard _Echo 419_ roar overhead, gathered his bearings, and headed for a small pass to the far right. The ODST spread out as Sergeant Parker and a three-Marine firing team turned to cover the group's six.

He crept along the rocky footpath, which rose to a two-meter high embankment. As he neared a cluster of rocks, Cortana warned him of multiple enemies ahead. A cluster of red dots appeared on his motion tracker. He clicked the rifle's safety off. The Master Chief found a patch of cover behind a cluster of boulders, raised the rifle, and used the scope and night-vision settings to find the Covenant gun emplacements located on the far side of the depression. There were lots of Grunts, Jackals, and Elites in the area, but the main threat was the plasma cannons—known as Shades—and those had to be neutralized before the Marines could move in safely. His MJOLNIR could handle a limited amount of the heavy plasma fire, but the Marine's ballistic armour just couldn't take the heat of such an assault.

Once he had spotted a Shade, he set the scope to 10X and his finger squeeze the trigger. The rifle kicked against his shoulder. The first shot took the gunner Grunt in the chest and he tumbled out of his seat at the controls. As the body hit the ground, the Master Chief had already put another 14.5mm round through the second Grunt's head.

Through the scope he noticed that two Jackals looked around cautiously, but didn't seem too phased by what had happened. The Chief was both puzzled and gratified by the act. The rifle barked twice and the careless Jackals both fell. He reloaded with practiced ease and continued sniping.

He jumped on top of the boulder as soon as he was sure there were no more targets. He was about to order the Helljumpers to move up, when an overzealous soldier jumped out from behind him with a crazed notion.

"Oh _hell _yeah!" he yelled. He then ran down into the area where the Covenant had previously patrolled. "Come on out, ya lily-livered, scum-covered, Covenant bastards! I'll make mince-meat outta ya!" he hollered aloud. The Master Chief could see a trio of Grunts and one Elite emerge from around the next bend and begin to open fire on the Marine.

"What are you doing?!" the Master Chief demanded. But before the leatherneck could reply, a plasma bolt hit him in the face. He managed to take down the Elite that had rounded the bend, though.

Gunfire echoed through the twisting canyon walls and then faded. The Spartan frowned. The Marine was a jackass, this had been true, and he had _totally_ given up their element of surprise.

There was no time to waste. The Master Chief led the Helljumpers through the depression, up a hill on the far side of the pit, and along the side of a cliff face. He hugged the cliff wall, wary of the immense drop that awaited anyone who strayed too close to the left. He could just make out the glint of moonlight on a vast body of water over the side of the cliff.

His motion sensor picked up baddies around the next bend. He waved the ODST to a halt as he crouched behind a massive clump of brush at the cliff top. A pair of Jackals came down the slope, plasma pistols glowing a dangerous green as they snapped at each other in difficult accents. The Spartan sprang from his hiding place and slammed the butt of "Rollo" into the nearest Jackal's shield. His shield flared and died and the strength of the blow sent the alien careening off of the cliff edge. The Chief whirled around and fired a short burst into the side of the second Jackal's head as he stealthily switched to "Valerie". The birdlike alien slammed to the ground, firing his overloaded plasma pistol at the last moment, nearly striking the Master Chief in the head.

He reloaded his weapon and continued to advance.

"Get up so I can kill you _again_!" a Helljumper yelled as he fired ravenously into the Jackal's head.

"Hanson……relax," another soldier said.

As the team stormed up the path, they encountered another Shade, more Grunts, an Elite, and another pair of Jackals, all of which were blown off of their feet by rapid assault rifle fire, the Master Chief's Sniper Rifle, and a few well-placed grenades.

The rescue force pressed on. Covenant forces were sporadic, but determined. Before long, the Master Chief could hear the thrumming of the Covenant craft ahead. In the center of a steep dip in the land lay the gravity lift that the aliens used to get to and from the ship and to move weaponry. A purple force field shimmered around the platform.

The Master Chief addressed the squad, pointing to the lift. "That's our way in."

"What are we waiting for?!" a Helljumper axed.

"Would you rather storm them _now_ or fall back for a moment and let me take out the stationary guns?" the Master Chief asked.

"……Wait,I_ guess_," the Helljumper said quietly.

It took several minutes for the Chief to be satisfied with the sniping he did, but he insisted that taking out the four Shade gunners, not to mention a brace of Jackals, Grunts, and their Elite leader, was well worth the wait.

There was a mad dash between the grav lift and the narrow canyon entrance, followed by a pitched battle as the Master Chief and the Helljumpers made their way directly underneath the monstrous ship.

The depression was ringed with aliens in no time as they dropped like rain from the ship. He raced up a slope and manned a vacant turret. He yanked the control yoke and swiveled the gun around. He thumbed the firing studs and hosed the enemies with unrelenting plasma authority.

He had just burned a pair of Jackals to the ground when Cortana warned him of an inbound Covenant dropship. He was forced to turn his fire to the oncoming craft as new troops trickled from the fuselage of the forked ship. He was still working on the enemy as a Marine pointed to the gravity lift and shouted, "hey! Look at that! There's more of 'em!" A dozen figures floated down to the ground, two of them being immense beasts who wore steel-blue armour and handheld-plate armour shields.

The Chief had faced such creatures before, but not since Reach fell. Covenant Hunters were dangerous foes. They always traveled in pairs and never went anywhere without their personal fuel rod cannons or some other type of gun. They earned the title "Jugganaut" easily by their ceaseless fighting tactics until the enemy, or themselves, had been destroyed. It was a title they wore proudly.

The Helljumpers hosed them with fire, threw grenades, and the Hunters roared in defiance. One of them fired a burst from his arm-mounted cannon and struck an ODST soldier. He dropped to the ground screaming, his flesh melting. The Hunters moved from the grav lift and a team of Grunts, Jackals, and Elites followed them in, showering the humans with plasma fire.

Sergeant Parker yelled, "hit 'em, Helljumpers!" and the ODST obediently poured all they could onto the massive, lumbering aliens.

The Master Chief heard the familiar _whooshing_ sound as a Hunter's weapon discharged. Burning energy smashed into him, rocking the Shade dangerously. He clenched his jaw as his shields bled energy and the alarm went off. He leaped out of the turret and brought up "Rollo". Through the scope world of the rifle, he managed to locate a patch of orange, unprotected skin on a Hunter who was focused on the Marines. He unloaded one solitary round into the alien's back. The Spartan heard what sounded like a cry of agony as the second alien saw his bond brotha fall. The other Hunter roared with grief as he turned towards the Master Chief. He felt the ground tremour as the alien charged up the slope to attack. A row of razor-sharp spines erected from the Hunter's back.

"Say 'goodnight' to ya mutha fo me, nigga!" the Hunter growled. Just as he was going to throw himself into the Spartan, he dodged at the last moment, where he saw his big chance. He fired into the patch of long, wormlike organisms. Thick, orange blood poured from the bullet wound. The Hunter gave a low wail and plummeted to the dirt.

The Master Chief rose to one knee, reloaded the assault weapon, and yelled, "all clear!"

The remaining ODST called, "all clear!" in return. One soldier said, "what?" Cortana opened up communications as the Master Chief headed down towards the lift.

"_Cortana to Echo 419. We made it to the gravity lift and are ready for reinforcements_."

"_Copy that_,_ Cortana_……_Echo four niiiiiineteen inbound_._ Cleeeeeear the drop zone_."

"What's the matter?!" Sergeant Parker demanded of his troops, several of whom were looking longingly at the Covenant lift.

"But it's so beautiful……" one ODST said.

"……Okay, maybe it _is_ a _little_ nice," Parker admitted.

The Spartan waited for _Echo 419_ to unload a fresh batch of Marines, waved them up, and joined the remaining ODST on the gravity lift.

"Once we're on the ship I can home in on the Captain's Command Neural Interface," Cortana said. "The CNI will lead us to him. He'll probably be in one of the ships brigs."

"I would _never_ have guessed," the Chief said dryly and felt the beam pull him upward. Someone else yelled, "yeehaw!" like a loser cowboy and they disappeared into the belly of the ship.

Four infection form Floods sneaked into the corridor where Big Pat's sleeping quarters were. One carried a can of shaving cream and another with a feather duster. Infection Floods normally got their sick kicks from vandalism or classic pranks. This time, Pat was the victim. Scurrying up to his prone form on the floor, the one with the feather duster jumped up on top of Big Pat. The one with the shaving cream shook it up for a few and then gently squirted it into one of his hands. Taking a moment to exchange gross noises, the feather duster Flood gently brushed it against where Pat's face should have been. Pat reflexively reached up to brush it away, but upon getting shaving cream all over the base of an Elite's neck, promptly woke up with a start.

"Hey!" he proclaimed as they all took off scurrying towards the door. Pat pushed himself up off of the floor and chased after them. They got through the door first, resulting in it shutting automatically behind them. Pat smacked into it roughly, making a delightful _whump_ noise.

"……Bitches and hoes," Big Pat said to himself, shaking it off. The door then reopened and he saw Stanley standing in the archway. His head laden with shaving cream as well.

"You too?" he asked bluntly.

"Yep," Big Pat answered. Stanley sighed angrily. "Got a towel I could use?"

"Sure thing, one sec," Pat said, turning towards a pile of clothes by the door. Already wiping himself off, he tossed the other towel at Stanley. "Here," he said quickly. It hit his friend in the face and Stanley just sat there, disgruntled. Eventually, he made use of it.

"I'm gonna—" they both heard. They looked out the door and watched as another group of infection forms skittered down the hall, being pursued by an ex-Elite Flood who was hopping after them, thoroughly tied up with rope.

"What is it, April Fool's day?" Pat asked, flinging the towel over his shoulder.

"_Everyday_ is April Fool's day to them," Stanley said.

"…...You _weren't_ in the quarters when I woke up," Pat said.

"Uh……no, I wasn't," Stanley admitted.

"……_Why not_?"

"I had to—"

"—_And_ you got shaving creamed too, so you _must_ have been _asleep_."

"See, I was—"

"—_Stanley_……where did you go after we did it last night?"

"Now look, I have a _very_ good ex—"

"—How many times have I told you, you are _my_ partner! _You_ made a commitment and _you_ are supposed to _honor_ that commitment!"

"……Hey look! It's 'Dangerous' Dan!" Stanley changed the subject as he nervously hurried down the hall to their carrier friend.

Big Pat continued down the hall after Stan and found that many other combat forms had fallen victim to the cruel and classic pranks the infection forms were setting about everywhere. Dan was lying at the end of the hallway. Less than half of his swollen exterior was underneath a wooden box. Stanley and Big Pat took a second to exchange confused and embarrassed looks and then Stanley knelt down and took the box off.

"C'mon Dan……don't tell me you actually _fell_ for that one," Stanley pleaded.

"Dangerous" Dan happily made a gross noise as an answer.

"Hey, Stan! Thanks for last night, I needed that!" a stout combat form in a Major's uniform said as he playfully punched him in the shoulder as he passed.

"Jesus-Mary-Joseph-Peter," Stanley said quietly to himself as shut his eyes tight. He waited for Hurricane Patrick to arrive.

"_Oh_-_my_-_God_!" Big Pat yelled.

"Now Pat, if you'll just allow me to—"

"—I am _so_ sick of you whoring yourself out to those stupid Storm Troopers! _Stupid_ Storm Troopers, _stupid_ Schützstaffeln, _stupid_ Jared, _stupid_ Ivan, and their _stupid_ commander garb, and their _stupid_ Nazi armlets—"

"—Pat!" Stanley hissed, subtly gesturing to someone over his partner's shoulder.

"_You_! Don't _even_ start—"

"—_Excuse us_, Private Patrick."

Big Pat turned around and noticed Captain Anderson and Ringsmarschal Hindenburg standing behind them.

"_I mean_……Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, Captain Anderson……you're both looking very soldierly today," Pat tried to suck up.

"……We were _going_ to ask you where Private Gordon was, but in spite of _that_ little remark, I think I'll assign _you_ to my little task instead," Hindenburg answered.

"Aw, _man_!" Pat said as Stanley chuckled.

"What are you laughin' at, _Butch_? Yer goin' with him," Hindenburg told Stan.

"What? Why?"

"Because _I'm_ big, _you're_ small. _I'm_ right, _you're_ wrong."

"You're bigger than _everyone_ in this base," Captain Anderson noted.

"Which is why _I'm_ second-in-command," Hindenburg retorted, adjusting his breeches rather close to his groin.

"True, he's got you beat, Anderson. I mean, just look at that. I've seen it in person, too. He would make _the best_ creepy bus stop flasher," Stanley added.

"_Everyone's_ seen it in person," Hindenburg chuckled, crossing his arms over his huge chest. "I _am_ the creepy bus stop flasher."

"H-Have you seen mine, Private Stanley?" Anderson asked nervously.

"……No?"

"……Do you want to compare it to his?" the Captain inquired further, ready to unbuckle his belt.

"……No?"

"_Hey_!" Big Pat said, staring Anderson down, who was roughly two feet shorter. Anderson hissed at him. Pat shrieked and hid behind Stanley.

"Well, anytime you want to see it, don't hesitate to ask me, Private Stanley," he said.

"……Yeah, sure, whatever," Stanley replied. Anderson smiled fondly at him. Hindenburg cleared his throat loudly.

"……Follow us……" he ordered grimly.

Pat held out one arm. "Well, _go on_," he urged Stanley sourly.

"_Ladies first_," he replied his partner. "Dangerous" Dan followed the officers down the hall, cutting between Stan and Big Pat. After glaring at one another, both of them also followed their officers down the corridor.

After two rides on one-minute lifts, they came to the entrance of the Flood lair. They lived in an underground Forerunner containment structure and the entrance was blocked off with a rope and a sign with a crudely drawn infection form that read "Here Thar Be Floods" in red paint.

"How ya doin', Harv?" Stanley asked playfully as he quickly squeezed both of the secretary's shoulders.

"Get away from me, ya fiyah fiytin'—" Harvey twitched violent and dropped his newspaper as Hindenburg whipped around, glared him down, made an obscene gesture, and pointed to the homophobic secretary. Harvey immediately placed his newspaper in front of his face again.

Hindenburg and Anderson gallantly stepped over the rope and continued out into the humid swamp. Stanley climbed over it and Dan crawled underneath it with minor difficulty as Stanley did his best to hold it up. Big Pat was another story. He had never managed to conquer the rope, always tripping over it every time an attempt was made. This time was no exception. He held onto the rope, swung one leg over it, and got it caught, somehow. He quickly became entangled and fell flat on his back.

"……Graceful, like a ballerina," Stanley said, walking off casually.

"……_Shut up_," Big Pat said, standing up and dusting himself off.

When everyone was caught up to their commanding officers, they waited for further instruction.

"Do you see that vehicle over there?" Anderson asked, pointing in the direction of an abandoned Warthog.

"Uh, yeah," Stanley said, squinting.

"What 'er we looking at?" Pat asked.

"Good. Take it for a spin around the swamp and make sure no enemies are advancing in our direction. If they are, call us on your radios. Good luck," Anderson said with a highly sarcastic chuckled.

"For almost four years now, we've had orders to 'secure the area from the advancing enemy'. If you haven't noticed, there have _never_ been any enemies. Why do you think this'll be any different?" Stanley remarked.

Hindenburg was just about to holler at Stanley when Anderson held him back.

"_Because_, Private Stanley, installments of both human and Covenant soldiers have been reported to have successfully landed on Halo. We want to make sure they're not heading our way."

"But……but I _don't wanna_ drive around the spooky swamp……" Big Pat said.

"Aw, whatsa matter? Is it too _scary_ for you?" Anderson asked mockingly as he stood in front of Big Pat. "Look at the big baby, Hindenburg. He's _too scared_ to roam around _his own territory_ with an M12 LRV!"

Hindenburg began laughing uproariously. "You wanna sit on daddy's lap?!"

"You make me sick, you piece of dirt! Baby wanna bottle? _A dirt bottle_?!" Anderson asked, hiking his breeches up a bit. That phrase and that action were his trademarks, something he always did to make himself feel superior to his men.

"Good luck, _baby_!"

"I think you'll _need_ it!" Hindenburg chimed in as they both turned back into the lair, laughing.

"Drive carefully, Private Stanley. It's dark and rather hard to see in some spots," he advised, changing his tone completely again.

"……Thanks," Stanley answered hesitantly. Captain Anderson patted his shoulder twice before leaving with the Ringsmarschal.

"…..Hey, Anderson?"

"What?"

"……You suck……"

They heard the officers exchange insults and the scrape of boots against metal as Anderson chased Hindenburg back into the lair.

The three stood for a moment, staring at the rugged war vehicle.

"……Driver," Stanley finally said.

"Shotgun," Pat said.

"Dangerous" Dan made a disgusting noise.

They all proceeded to climb into the car and buckle in. Stanley sat with his hands on the wheel for a second.

"Wull……arncha gonna turn it on?" Big Pat asked.

"Gimme a sec," Stanley said. He then turned the key in the ignition, flicked a series of switches, and revved it up. The radio was halfway through the song "Low Rider" by WAR. Immediately, all three of them started to shimmy.

"I love this song!" Big Pat said.

"And _you_ said the human body was less efficient than the Covenant," Stanley said in a haughty tone.

"……I never said that, _you_ did," Big Pat said.

"I did? Whatever. Say, it's flashing 'ABS'. Damn, I forget what that means."

"It means it's a muscle car," Big Pat answered matter-of-factly.

"……Wow……" Stanley remarked.

"……_No_ lie."

"All right then," Stanley said with a shrug. He reached to put the 'Hog in reverse, but groaned. "Oh no, I _hate_ stick shifts," he said.

"But, you've never driven a car in yer life," Pat pointed out.

"No, but—" Stanley pulled a silver dog tag out of the pocket of his tattered gray pants, which were tucked into tall combat boots. He turned it around once or twice. "—Michael Gallolawrence did," he said with another shrug. Big Pat shrugged as well as Stanley put it in reverse and backed it around rather expertly.

"This is _so_ intense," Stanley said as he put it in drive and gave her some acceleration.

"Hey! Look what I found!" Pat said as he put on some small, square-framed reading glasses.

"Great, now, why don't you do me a favour and try to find some type of owner's manual? I wanna see if this can switch to an automatic."

"Fine," Big Pat said, "but I'm leaving the glasses on."

"Is this like the time when we caught you drawing eyebrows on yourself with an Expo marker?" Stanley asked.

"Hey! I looked good! Don't make fun of my hobbies," Big Pat said with anguish. He quickly flashed back to the moment.

"Let's see……" Pat said as he got down on the floor and looked underneath the seat. He rattled off everything he pulled out. "Two bullet belts, a broken beer bottle, a really old issue of 'Fake News' magazine……oh! Look! Three hundred and fifty pound cat dials De-troit Animal Cops. Pet Psychic reveals that said cat is sick of his lifestyles and his forty-ounce chugging owners. Interesting……"

"Pat, if there's one thing you should know about humans is that they are completely _crazy_. Take it from me. One of my minds was on Earth. Keep looking," Stan encouraged.

"Fine, fine! Sheesh, don't need to be so bossy. Um, a Bungie cord, 'Bob Seger's Greatest Hits' CD, and, uh……what's this?"

"Lemme see that…….oh God, Pat, I'd put that down _right now_."

"Why? You din' even tell me what this is."

"Know how Officer Nuremberg, and I use that term lightly, is always talking about something he calls 'ladytimes'?"

"Yeah……"

"Did he ever elaborate on what that _literally_ means?"

"Sorta……"

"Well……that's a tampon. And it's been used. _Very_ used."

Pat yelled out in utter fright as he tossed it out of the Warthog. Stanley and "Dangerous" Dan were both giggling to themselves.

"Hey! That was scary! You guys are _so_ mean ta me," he said.

"So, I take it no owner's manual?"

"Nope."

"Check the glove compartment," Stan suggested. Pat shrugged as he kicked it open.

"Hm……rubber spider, hey look!" he said as he pulled out a pink and green set of "Clackers", you know, that random toy with the plastic balls attached to V-shaped appendages and it makes a lot of noise when you swing it right and you're always finding it around the back room in your grandma's house and you're all like, "land's end, look what I found!" Pat started playing with it expertly, making a copious amount of noise. Stanley soon became annoyed thoroughly, grabbed the toy out of Big Pat's hand, and threw it out of the Warthog.

"Aw, c'mon. Why be hatin'?" Pat asked.

"_Look_!" Stanley ordered.

"Okay, okay!" Pat continued to dig through the glove box. "Here it is!" he said shutting the compartment. He skimmed through the thick manual quickly. With his head still metaphorically stuck in it, he reached over to the radio, pushed two buttons, and it changed from WAR to some awful 2552 techno song. He reached over again, hit the same buttons, and it changed to the song "Grunge Princess" by the current favourite alternative band on Charybdis IX, Dexter Flavournoid.

"This right here is proof that _all_ Marines do drugs," Stanley said as the song ended and their hit "Room Full of Robots" reeled. "Did you—" but before he could finish the rest of his sentence, Pat slid a small lever on the side of the stick shift over, flipping it underneath to get it out of the way, reached over again, and pulled out the shift out of the side of the steering wheel, all without looking up.

"—Five dollars says that a Mexican soldier drew the blueprints for this vehicle," Stanley said giving his friend a high-five.

"You wanna see something even _more_ sweet?" Big Pat asked mischievously.

"Okay?"

Pat looked behind him to make sure "Dangerous" Dan wasn't looking. He then slowly pressed a button on the panel between the two front seats. Immediately after, the gunner's turret, where Dan was standing, ejected him into the air. They heard him making a wide array of noises as he landed a good forty feet away.

"……Let's see if we can get Hindenburg, Anderson, or Nuremberg to sit there next time," Stanley said as Big Pat started giggling.

The gravity lift deposited the "Rescue Heroes" three feet above the deck. The Master Chief was a few seconds behind the Marines. He hung suspended for a moment and then fell. He then realized that all of the Marines had somehow been dropped in a messy pile in the middle of the lift. He stepped clear of the soldiers as they tumbled off one another. Parker, being among the first up, made a series of hand signals similar to lifeguards on the beach or the guys who wave in 747s. All of the ODST stood and stared. He growled and repeated the same series of gestures.

"……What?" one of them said finally.

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?"

"What are you, some kind of lifeguard?"

"Never mind. Spread out, cover those doors," Parker finally said.

The room was filled with Covenant cargo modules, alien tanks known to the humans as Wraiths, and other mmhmmhmhmhm……you get it.

The Master Chief moved toward one of the four angular doors that bordered the corners of the room. Parker gave the "all clear" signal, which the ODST actually understood, and the leathernecks relaxed.

"……Ain't no Covenant in here……think maybe nobody's home?" one soldier said aloud.

A door's light flashed near where the Chief was standing. It slid open to reveal an actively camouflaged Elite holding and energy sword, a long cigarette appearing to be suspended in thin air as it hung between two of his four hinged jaws. His eyes widened as he noticed the group of Marines.

"Seering dumbness……" he droned as the Master Chief tackled him to the ground. He finished off the Elite quickly, the alien barely putting up any kind of fight.

Another door on the opposite side of the room flashed and more Covenant soldiers began to trickle in.

A second Marine turned to the Corporal who had just totally jinxed them. "'No Covenant' you just _had_ to open yer mouth, _didn't you_? You just _haaaaaad_ to open yer mouth!"

It took a while for the group to finish off the masses of Covenant troops, but they finally pulled through. Chaos reigned through the internal regions of the cruiser. The Master Chief charged through two large doors at the back of the shuttle bay. A second set of blast doors were sealed and a control panel was scarce.

"Oh my God! What are we gonna do?! We're trapped!" an ODST whined, banging on the door with his fists. The others repeated his actions, thoroughly confused and threatened by the sealed exit.

"Um……you guys _do_ realize that we can just go _around_ these via the others in the shuttle bay, right?" the Spartan inquired. He was ignored as the Marines continued their shenanigans.

Sighing deeply, the Chief walked back the way they came. "I'll go open it……" he drawled.

It took a good twenty minutes to work around the corridors that bordered the huge doors and to deal with the masses of aliens that bombarded him. Eventually though, he was able to reach the other side of the door and open it for his fellow soldiers, who were still unremittingly pounding on the heavy metal.

They continued forward until they reached another shuttle bay. A dropship passed through a blue force field as all hell broke loose. Plasma fire and needles rained from the landing above them, a cluster sticking themselves into an unfortunate Marine.

A Grunt jumped down from above and landed on a Corporal's shoulders.

"Where's the biscuit?!" it shrieked loudly, grabbing onto his head.

"Ugh! Get it off! It's on me!" he said in a pansy-like fashion, dropping his assault weapon and running around, hands flailing.

"Hang on! I'll save you!" another ODST said as he aimed an assault rifle whip at the alien. Instead, he hit the Corporal on the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. "Uh……my bad," the ODST said, inching away from the prone Corporal.

Numerous hatches that led into the bay began to open up and additional Covenant troops poured in. Parker stood and motioned his men forward. "Okay, people, party time!"

"Aye, aye,_ Silva's Little Angel_!" a peeved soldier said.

The Master Chief was careful to keep his back to a Marine, a pillar, or the nearest bulkhead. Due to the superiority of his armour, which needs to be mentioned every five seconds, he focused his attention on the Elites, trying to make life easier for his comrades. What a good leader.

Meanwhile, Cortana was busy tapping into the ship's electronic nervous system in order to find the best possible way out. "We need to leave this bay _now_ or there won't be anyone left to complete the mission," she warned.

"Oh my God, Cortana……you're a genius," he said as he ducked behind a cargo module, emptied the last of his magazine into a Grunt wielding a plasma grenade, and paused to reload.

A Hunter gave a battle cry as it charged into the fray. The Spartan turned and saw Sergeant Parker firing at the massive alien. He unloaded the last of his bullets, all of which ricocheted off of the Hunter's tank-like armour. Parker looked from his gun to the alien, back to his gun, and tossed it to the ground.

"Jesus hates me," he said, grabbing his sidearm as he backpedaled.

The Hunter sprang forward, lowered a shoulder, and ripped through the human's ballistic armour.

"Aaaaaaw, _wut_?! Y'all got hoed! _Hoed_!" the Hunter taunted, shuffling around the bleeding human in such a mocking way that the Chief's blood began to boil. He cursed out loud, reloaded, and emerged from his hiding. The Hunter whipped around in confusion and was about to charge at him when it suddenly screamed a curse and clattered to the deck plates like a chump. The Spartan was puzzled by this. "Damn, I'm good……" he said to himself, figuring he scored a lucky shot.

He heard a smoker's cough and saw Sergeant Parker struggling to his feet, a smoking M6D in his hands.

"_Say my name_! _Now_ who's the bitch, _bitch_?!" he said as he struggled to climb on top of the Hunter's corpse and then proceeded to ghetto-stomp it.

"Not bad for a white guy, thanks," he said, giving him a brisk nod.

The Sergeant grabbed a fresh magazine and jammed it into his discarded rifle. "Back in New York, I had to deal with this shit all the time. I guess it finally paid off."

"Cortana," he said, "how much longer before you get the—"

"—Got it!" she proclaimed. One of the heavy doors opened slowly. "Everyone should move through _now_. I can't guarantee that it won't lock again when it closes."

_What good is that_, the Spartan thought as he motioned for the surviving Marines. He stood in the doorway as they passed through single-file, making sure his team was all right.

The next fifteen minutes were like the last fifteen minutes beforehand, spent running rampant through interlocking corridors, up and down ramps, and past blinking light panels. With no help from Cortana's poor cartographer abilities, they plunged back into the cruiser's oppressive passageways.

After traveling for a bit, Cortana gave them a spot of good news. "The Captain's signal is strong. He must be close."

"Yay……" a weary Marine said.

The Chief frowned. This was taking too long. The Marines were cramping his style, although they did offer _some_ help. He turned to Sergeant Parker and said, "hold you're men here. I'll be back soon……with the Captain."

"Major Silva's not gonna like this……" Parker said with an obnoxious younger brother tone.

"I have five good reasons as to why you shouldn't tell him I left you here," the Master Chief answered. He extended his hand near Parker's face. "One, two, three, four, _five_," he said, retracting all of his fingers one by one until his hand was a fist.

"……Those are good reasons," the Sergeant answered, recoiling back against the wall.

The Master Chief, having left his party to search for Captain Keyes, wandered from door to door until he found wide blast doors lined with cells on the inside. Enormous windows at the back of the room allowed for a beautiful view of the planet Threshold. He called out the Captain's name, but to no avail, no one answered. He checked each cell to make sure the Captain wasn't dead, dismembered, or _worse_…….

With the exception of two dead Marines and active camouflage which he abruptly stole, there was no sign of Keyes. Having a frustration spell that was interrupted by Cortana, assuring him that Keyes's CNI signal was strong, he pressed on. Literally searching door to door in the long, seemingly hopeless attempt to rescue Keyes, he finally found the correct detention center……but severely wished he hadn't. The portal slid open and revealed a Grunt arguing to what seemed to be thin air. The Chief was sure it was alone, but he heard a deep and distinct Covenant voice quarrel back.

"_I'm _telling_ you_! The chorus goes 'conjunction junction, what's your function? Hookin' up words and phrases and clauses'!" the Grunt said loudly in its obnoxious voice.

"And I am telling _you_ it goes different!" the other voice answered.

"_I _would know! One of your _Sangheili buddies_ made me sing it when I didn't bring his weapon on time! _The whole thing_!"

"_Yeah_?! Well……I sprechen Sie human better than you do!" the disembodied voice answered harshly.

The Master Chief, being thoroughly annoyed with their conversation about "School House Rock", loaded a new clip into "Valerie" and burst invisibly into the room. He shot the Grunt dead on arrival.

"Actually, he's right……" Master Chief said threateningly. He fired a few rounds into the air in front of him, which deactivated the Elite's armour. Another bullet split his abdomen, spilling his entrails. The silver-clad Elite looked down at his intestines and then looked back up at where the Chief's bullets came from.

"Aw, come on……that really wrecks your day," he said. "But thanks for clearing the controversy up, I guess," he added and then dropped dead.

"Captain! Captain Keyes?" The Chief called out, scanning the room.

"My name is Captain Keyes, Chief? My name is Captain Keyes, is that you?"

Yep, he was in the right place.

He hurried to the last detention cell on the left and peered through the translucent force field.

"My name is Captain Keyes, Chief, where'd you go?"

"I'm right here, Captain."

"My name is Captain Keyes AH! My name is Captain Keyes, a ghost!"

The Master Chief sighed. "I'm not a ghost, Captain. I found a—"

"—My name is Captain Keyes, what do you want from me, ghost?! My name is Captain Keyes, I'm sorry! My name is Captain Keyes, I didn't know this was _your_ cell!" the naval officer exclaimed, absolutely terrified.

"Keyes, I'm _not_ a—"

"My name is Captain Keyes, oh no……you ate the Master Chief!"

"……I wasn't eat—"

"—My name is Captain Keyes, will your hunger for cyborg souls ever cease?!" he hollered at the ceiling of his cell. By then, the camouflage the Spartan found had worn out and he become visible once more.

"……My name is Captain Keyes, Chief! My name is Captain Keyes and am I glad to see _you_! My

name is Captain Keyes and you missed it! My name is Captain Keyes, there was a talking ghost who sounded _exactly_ like you!"

"……I'm sure I would have enjoyed it," the Chief played along.

"You don't think ghosts can talk, Captain?" a Marine in the cell next to him said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I think I've watched enough ghost hunting shows in my lifetime to know that they only say things like, 'get out!', 'I hate you', 'I miss you'……stuff like that."

The Chief hurried to the access controls and pushed a button. "These Boots" fired up again.

"MY NAME IS CAPTAIN KEYES SHUT IT OFF!" he screamed, clamping his hands over his ears.

"Wrong button," Cortana said as the Chief immediately hit the same control.

"Thanks for warning me," he answered sarcastically.

"You're welcome," she answered. With some guidance, he was able to deactivate all of the cell doors. Captain Keyes stepped out of the cell and embraced Master Chief.

"My name is Captain Keyes and you're my hero! My name is Captain Keyes and you saved me from that terrible woman and that ghost!" he said.

"……I missed you too," Chief said hurriedly as he pried Keyes off of him.

"My name is Captain Keyes, be wary……there is another Elite in here. My name is Captain Keyes and he's standing in the corner."

The Spartan whipped around and noticed a floating dunce cap in the far corner. He silently crept up behind the Elite and gave him a quick slap to the back of the neck with "Valerie".

"My name is Captain Keyes, they were trying to guess what my first name was and whoever lost had to stand in the corner for ten minutes. My name is Captain Keyes and it's a good thing you killed the winning Elite, because, he guessed my name I was gonna hafta give him my first born child. My name is Captain Keyes and I'd have to fork over Miranda, cuz she's my _only_ child, and I just don't think I could bring myself to do that."

The Master Chief didn't know what to say.

"My name is Captain Keyes……Marines, assemble!"

All of them answered unenthusiastically as they assembled in a small group around Keyes. "My name is Captain Keyes and while we were in here, I heard some of the Covenant discuss this ring world……they call it 'Halo'."

_Way ahead of you, Captain,_ the Master Chief thought as Cortana dished out some information on Halo and what to do next.

"My name is Captain Keyes, _then_, I got to see some Elites bang each other! My name is Captain Keyes, did anyone _else_ see that?! My name is Captain Keyes and, well, at least I _think_ they were havin' sex. My name is Captain Keyes and one alien kept yelling, 'oh, yes……oh, yes……oh, yeah, by the rings!'"

The Marines all responded unenthusiastically again.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I couldn't really tell what _kind_ of sex they were having, but all I know is they were using—"

The Master Chief tried his hardest to drown out Captain Keyes by listening as intently as he could to Cortana.

"—My name is Captain Keyes and it was _so_ disgusting……alien sex is the creepiest thing. My name is Captain Keyes and the weirdest part was the fact that they didn't even _have_—"

"—I don't mean to interrupt your _fascinating_ story, Captain, but, I recommend you help think up a new plan for the retrieval of this 'Silent Cartographer'," Cortana interrupted.

"My name is Captain Keyes, and yes, indeed. My name is Captain Keyes and I have a new mission for you, Chief. My name is Captain Keyes……use any means you can to beat the Covenant to the map room and find that mapmaker guy that doesn't talk. My name is Captain Keyes, if Halo is some kind of weapon and they find him and make him talk before us, they'll gain control over this ring and use it to wipe out the entire human race." With that, Keyes picked a Needler off of the ground and set his features firm. "My name is Captain Keyes……and I'm gonna kill the bastards that made me listen to that awful song……"

The Elite Riley 'Bodensee was hauled down a corridor and into a dim room. At the center of the room was a large desk in which a man was seated. A woman, who Riley mistook for another man at first sight, accompanied him. He was shoved into a chair that was placed in front of the desk and bound to it.

"I'M SAD!" Riley yelled as the two Marines finished tying him down.

The man at the desk, Major Antonio Silva, stood up abruptly. First Lieutenant Melissa McKay stood unbent by his side.

"Shut up! Or I'll give you something to be sad about!" Silva yelled, his voice cold.

"Okay, just because you _happen_ to have less jaws than me _doesn't_ make you better than me," Riley said defensively.

A Marine who was standing behind the Elite issued him a rabbit punch.

"Ow! _Hey_!"

Both guards started chuckling.

"I said be quiet!" Silva shouted.

Riley cowered in his chair.

"Actually, you said 'shut up'," McKay chimed in.

"……Where's that sandwich I asked you to get me?" he growled. McKay sighed irately and sauntered out of the room. "What's your name?" he then asked, attention turned back to the alien soldier.

"……Asher Lev," Riley answered.

He was rabbit punched again by the opposite Marine.

"Woodja stop it with the smackins and whackins?!" Riley yelled, thrashing in his chair.

"The beatings will continue until your morale improves," Silva said.

"Boy, you're not the only one who's told me _that_ today," Riley said.

"Now tell me this time, what is your name?"

"……'Bodensee." Riley answered.

"Wait……like the largest lake in Germany 'Bodensee'?" Silva asked.

"Sure! Wait……what?" Riley inquired.

"Nevermind……I see you're a lower-ranking Elite," Silva continued.

"_Here_," McKay said unenthusiastically as she thrust a plate at him.

"……Yeah……but I don't like army life. My uncle sorta made me go into military training, but there's actually a really lengthy, emotional story about why I'm here. See, I had just turned—"

"—Please save us the sob-stories," Silva cut him off just in time, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Was he carrying any weapons when you brought him down?"

"No sir," the Marine on the right answered.

"That frisking was kind of hawt," Riley said with a chuckle. "You guys really didn't have to spend so much time near my Sang-gina, though."

"What can I say……I miss Eva," one guard said with a guilty shrug.

"You're a pig," McKay said in his direction.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am."

"……Untie him for a moment," Silva ordered. Both Marines reluctantly loosened the ropes on the prisoner Elite. Riley stretched his arms.

"Oh man, that's better. You guys are good rope tiers. You should be like, boat captains or pirates or something."

"……What do you have in that battle harness of yours?"

"Oh……" Riley said opening up the pockets and revealing the contents. "I got a Koosh ball, so ghetto, a couple bottle caps from when I got really wasted and stole three Ghosts, even though I don't even remember it, um……and this holo of my extended family," he rattled off all of the items.

"You got kids?" Silva inquired.

"Hm? Oh, no, no, no. I'm not even joined," Riley answered.

"What's this? Is there a plasma grenade in here?" one Marine said, grabbing a small stuffed tiger that was tied to the side of Riley's harness.

"NO! NO ONE touches Moops! EVER!" he shrieked, pushing the Marine down, clutching the tiger and sitting back on the chair. McKay had her M6D raised, but lowered it as soon as Riley calmed down.

"Moops?" Silva asked.

"Yeah. I've had him since I was an infant," Riley said, stroking it gently. "I go to my angry place when ever someone touches him without axing," he added.

"I've had enough of your life story. I want some facts out of you! Now……do you know anything about a team that was supposed to be delivering a large shipment of weapons to the forces that guard that one structure in that one swamp?"

"Psh, I have no idea what hobbidyhoi you're talkin' about," Riley said, picking some lint off of Moops, eyes focused on the stuffed animal.

Silva cleared his throat as an ODST soldier handed him a few slices of paper. "Well then……since you are indeed of the Covenant race, decipher this here message that we caught via the radios." He handed Riley the papers.

"Whoa," he said squinting and holding them away from his face. He brought them closer and then held them farther again. "I can't see _a thing_. Can I have my glasses? I think one of your homes took them," he asked.

"Eye troubles?" Silva asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm far-sighted and my contacts must've got knocked out when I was shoved on the floor of that ship," Riley answered with the laugh. "It's not a big deal because I_ hate_ them anyway." One soldier handed the Elite his pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses. "Thanks puddin'," Riley said, putting them on. "Ah, much better. Okay, let's see what we got here," he said, resting one booted foot on the opposite knee and settling into the chair. He skimmed through the series of papers, humming "Silver Bells" as he did so.

"……That song……how do you know it?" McKay axed him.

"Oh, 'Silver Bells'? Who _doesn't_ know that song? I mean, besides the Covenant and Atheists," Riley answered. "City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style. In the air there's a feeling of—"

"—We all know the song! What does all of this Gibberish mean?" Silva demanded.

"Well, if you axe me, it's all a bunch of flim-flam," Riley sighed "Nothing you'd be interested in. But if you want me to read it to you, I will."

"Yes."

"Well, it's between two Sangheili, by the looks of it—"

"—Wait, what in Sam Hill is a 'Senghelli'?" Silva interrupted.

"Excuse me, it's pronounced 'Sank-hee-lee' and it's what I am. You know, what my race is called, like 'humans' or any other kind of being," Riley explained. He had almost completely lost his thick Sangheili accent, but it was still prominent when he spoke _his_ language and when he said certain words in English.

"—All right, all right, I don't care anymore, you may continue."

"Okay then. One is rambling on about how the rations are crappy and the other is agreeing with him, and now……the first one is asking about where to find a cheap deal on crack. The other answers that he should contact a Lekgolo nicknamed 'Snoop'. See, when you're a warrior Sangheili, you're either one, or all, of three things: A raving alcoholic, on an obscene amount of drugs, or a prostitute," Riley explained.

"You aliens are so disturbing," Silva commented.

"Okay……and _human_ soldiers during the Battle of Vietnam _weren't_?" Riley challenged.

"You don't seem to act like a normal Covenant soldier would," McKay added.

"Then again, I'm not your average, bloodthirsty, human-hating Sangheili, am I?" Riley asked, gracing the Marines with his signature medium speed machine-gun laughter. McKay and Silva exchanged disturbed glances and then resumed staring at Riley. "_In fact_, I rather like human lifestyles."

"Say _what_?" McKay asked.

"Sure! I have a crack load of Christmas LPs in my quarters. I love your sense of humour! I even have a cardboard-cutout of Jerry Seinfeld right next to my cot!" More machine-gun laughter.

Silva and McKay both wondered the same thing: why hadn't this Elite been committed?

"_Who_ are you talking about?" Silva inquired.

"Oh, right! See, he was a comedian in the early 1990s. I'm more into the Earth years 1920 to 2010," Riley explained.

"Well……it's clear that we're not going to get anything out of this……um, _soldier_. Take him back to the detention center," Silva ordered the Marines, saying the word "soldier" with a high level of distaste.

"What?!" Riley said as he was roughly jerked from the chair and towed out of the office. "I'm not a threat! Lemme go!" he yelled. "I LIKE YOUR COMEDIANS!"

"……I feel bad for the Chief. He had to endure that much longer than we did," McKay said to Silva. Silva put down his sandwich and glared at the Lieutenant.

"……Don't _ever_ mention the Chief when I'm eating my sandwich……" he grunted. "_Now_ I can't eat it. You've _ruined_ my lunch experience."

Riley 'Bodensee was roughly dragged down into the lowest level of Alpha Base by the two robust Marines.

"No, wait! Don't lock me up! I'm not here to hurt anyone!" he yelled aloud, doing his best to try and break free, which is kind of pathetic seeing as he was more than two feet taller than they were.

"You are _so_ going to stay in here, pal," the one to his left said.

"Until you can answer some questions without acting like an ass," the other added.

"But I've _never been_ POWMIA before! Help! Police brutality!" Riley shouted. One Marine opened the sliding, metal-barred door to a cell and the other quickly and roughly kicked Riley inside. Apparently, the Forerunners were big fans off olde timey jail cells. The particular facility the humans had currently been occupying had been the original Flood form study and containment facility. They shut the door and started cackling.

"Have fun, _ladies_," one said as they both exited the area.

Riley stood up straight. He surveyed the area. In his cell, there was a Hunter whom he didn't know reading _Divine Evil_ by Nora Roberts and a Jackal who was busy carving an elaborate mural on the wall with a Needler needle. There were a total of six cells. On the opposite side, he noticed a thoroughly bored looking Elite in silver armour who was hanging his arms out of the cell, a Grunt who was filing one of the bars in the cell next to him, and he couldn't tell who or what was in the last cell. He couldn't see the others on his side either, but he heard voices. Riley turned around to the Hunter and the Jackal.

"Uh……hi?" he said nervously.

"'Sup?" the Hunter asked, not looking up from his book.

"'Ello, govna!" the Jackal answered, also too focused on his work to look up.

"W-what are you um, drawring there?" Riley asked.

"Con't ya tell?!" the Jackal asked, ceasing his work to give Riley a peeved glare.

"Uh, no, no not really……"

"It's tha word 'Adidas' in this fancy font," the Jackal sighed angrily, continuing on.

"Oh, like Adi Dassler?" Riley said.

"No……like muthafuckin' 'Adidas', ya stoopid sod!" the Jackal yelled.

"Y'all best not botha Hanjk when 'e's workin'," the Hunter said, finally shutting the book and sitting upright on the floor.

"Ya best not be botherin' me agen, or ah'll be shivvin' ya, ah will!" Hanjk threatened as he prodded Riley's armoured chest with the needle.

"Yo 'Canundrum'!" the Hunter yelled to the cell across from them.

"Hm?" the Elite in silver armour answered, lifting his head from its spot between bars.

"Where mah hookups at?!" the Hunter asked loudly.

"Canundrum" made a series of wretched noises that soundly similar to a cougar with tuberculosis and it looked as if he was going to vomit, or choke to death. He then spat out a package of cigarettes.

"Canundrum" took two from the pack before he tossed the Hunter the pack.

"Thanks G," he said. "You want one?" he asked Riley.

"Oh, no thanks. I'm trying to quit," he said.

"Ya startin' again," he said, tossing one in Riley's direction. He caught it nervously, but only examined it.

"Didn't they start putting rat poison in these? I thought I read something about—"

"—Look! If 'KibblesnTankShrapnel' says dat ya smoke, ya do it, bitch!" the Hunter said standing up.

"'Ell yeah, mo'fo!" Hanjk said.

"Stay outta this!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" growled, threatening to backhand him. Hanjk squealed in fright and put his arms over his head.

"—Show you mah pimp-hand," he said as Riley looked over to the Grunt that was filing the bars.

"Hey, how long have you been filing there?" Riley asked.

"……Quite a few units," he answered. "My master was supposed to come get me."

"He wouldn't happen to be Zuka 'Zamamee, would he?"

"……Yes."

"……I hate to tell you this, but, I don't think he's comin' to get you," Riley said innocently. "But, man! _What_ a Sangheili! He's such a babe. Excellent baritone saxophonist too."

"……What was your first clue, bitch?!"

"You may be way over there, but I'm still a Sangheili!" Riley whined.

"……Yeah? Well 'Canundrum' is a higher rank than you!" the Grunt named Yayap said.

"Yeah!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Get outta my Banshee!" where the answers of the other Covenant in the containment area. Riley hung his head and let go of the bars. He looked up at "Canundrum" for a second. He was in the same position, leaning on the bars, looking extremely unfazed by everything that went on. He lifted his head and looked up at Riley. When their eyes met again, Riley quickly avoided his gloomy stare.

"'Ey! _You_ shut the fuck up, y'all niggaz!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" yelled back. "'N you, 'Juicebox', watch ya back!"

"……Can I have a cooler prison name?" Yayap asked.

"Don't be a punk-ass. Deal wit tha one you got! Now sit down 'n shut it!" he turned to Riley. "Ya git used to it in like a few lapses er so."

Riley took a seat on the floor and leaned his head on his hand. "This has been the worst day……"

"S'not all _that_ bad here," "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said, sitting down next to him. Riley took the cigarette out and held it to the Hunter.

"Light me."

"KibblesnTankShrapnel" produced a zippo lighter with a beautiful engraving of Tupac Shakur on it.

"What's yo name?"

"Riley 'Bodensee."

"……You dat guy who listens to Christmas music and hangs out wit ev'ryone but da Sangz?"

"That's me."

"Aw man, you know James?"

"He's one of my good friends."

"Aw, yeah! He mah bond brotha! You mah boy!" "Kibbles" said, grabbing Riley and issuing him a massive noogie. "We need to get you a jailname, bro," he said, letting go.

"Well, you guys can use 'Riley', I don't mind," he suggested as he shook his head quickly.

"Aw, c'mon! You gotta have one. You one of us now."

"It's really okay."

"I'm gonna think 'o one anyway," "Kibbles" said.

"Gee, thanks," Riley said. "Who else is POWMIA in here?"

"Oh, well, there's you, 'n there's me, 'n you know Hanjk already. Hm……" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" stuck his head between two bars and scanned the area quickly. "Silver-armoured Sang over there is 'Canundrum'. 'Ee knows how to get _everything_ 'n 'e don't talk much. There's 'Juicebox', 'e won't shut his ass up. If 'e tries to act all tough, just smack him around an' show 'em who's boss. You a Sang, so 'e's gotta listen to ya. 'N there's 'Gangrene' in the next cell, 'e can fake injury or any kind 'o disease you can imagine. 'Pops' is wit 'im.

"Why do you call him 'Pops'?" Riley interrupted.

"Cuz e's been here da longest."

"How long?"

"Six cycles!" he heard who was supposed to be "Pops" call out.

"There ain't no one in the last cell an' in the one way over there……tha otha Sang there, that's 'DuranDuran'."

"Wait, I _gotta_ know the story behind his name! They're a good band."

"Well……everything 'e says has to do wit some sort of song lyric."

"You can dance if you want to, you can leave your friends behind, but if your friends don't dance, the ain't no friends of mine……" the Elite said with a completely straight face.

"See?"

"Whoa……that takes some serious skill," Riley remarked, nodding.

"You, 'Canundrum', 'Pops', 'n 'DuranDuran' are da only Sangz here."

"Oh, really? Huh. Actually, I'm kinda surprised _you're_ in here, 'Kibbles'," Riley said.

"Eh, dat special-armoured warrior's a son of a bitch," he said with a dull shrug.

"Did he get you too?" Riley asked.

"Yeah."

"……I didn't think the humans took prisoners," Riley commented.

"Got me. They're all so hell-bent on findin' out more 'bout dis stupid ring," "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said.

"That makes sense."

"At least I got mah book," "Kibbles" said.

"Is it any good?"

"You kiddin' me?! I _love_ Nora Roberts! But I don't get why she writes some books wit a pseudonym 'n then puts 'er name on top of it. I mean, wut da hell? Wut's da point?" he asked.

"Must be some sort of author thing. I'm not an author, so I wouldn't know," Riley said. He looked around the cell again. He figured that this was a lot better than being forced to fight enemies he knew nothing about, however, he wondered where his friends were and how they were fairing. Just thinking about it made him nervous.

Commander Ivan had smudged out his fourteenth cigarette. He watched the smoke trail lazily to the low ceiling of the conference room as he listened to two of his staff argue. An imposing line of SS bodyguards bordered all four walls. Ivan and Jared sat at the head of the long table and other members of the War Department and their Field Marshals, the highest ranking soldiers, accompanied them as well. Ringsmarschal Hindenburg and Captain Anderson were _always_ at each others throats and were constantly fighting, physically and verbally. The Flood loved a good Hindenburg on Anderson tussle. He rolled his only good eye and examined his thoroughly chewed fingernails, something he did obsessively along with adjusting his uniform. The two soldiers finally came to a cease in their quarrel.

"……Are you two _quite_ finished?" Ivan asked bluntly.

"Yes, sir!" they answered in unison.

"……Now, before we begin, there are some changes within the War Department that I think you should all be aware of. First of all, Paul Joseph Gerbils will no longer be my Minister of Propaganda and Public Communications. That position is now being filled by Carl Speekeasie," Commander Ivan noted as Speekeasie adjusted his monocle and smiled.

"_Our_……_our_ Minister of Propagranda and Prublic Crommunicrations," Commander Jared corrected.

"_Yes_, that's what I _said_," Ivan retorted.

"Speaking of changes, what ever happened to Brigadier General Marshal Ludensdrops?" Ringsmarschal Hindenburg inquired. "I haven't seen him in forever."

"……We hung them _both_ for insubordination and conspiracy. You were there when it happened," Ivan said. The others stared at Hindenburg.

"Um……yeah, of course. I was just a little, um, a little _off_ that day," he explained.

"If by 'off' you mean high on morphine," Anderson sneered quietly. Hindenburg grabbed a handful of the Captain's tendril and pulled him close to his face.

"Let go of Anderson, Ringsmarschal," Ivan ordered. Hindenburg obediently threw the scrawny Captain back into his seat and sat up straight.

"Also, seeing as Rudinger Mess is in no state to fill such an important position as being _my_ secretary, I've taken the liberty of giving his position to Officer Nuremberg."

"What do we call him now? _Ms_. Nuremberg?" Anderson asked. All of the Schützstaffeln laughed.

Nuremberg looked highly offended. "I'm not a girl!"

"You will address him _as usual_……" Ivan answered angrily. "Now, back to business."

He stood from his chair and chose a spot next to a slab of white-board on the wall. Taking up a Dry-Erase marker, he cleared his throat. "Let's review the plan for 'the Great Deluge'……seeing as _some of you_ have already forgotten the order of planets," he sneered in the general direction of Officer 'Magee, who lowered his head in embarrassment.

"My Very Eccentric Mother—"

"—_Not_ the Milky Way planets, you bastard……_everyone_ knows _that_ order," Ivan growled. "But I _will_ warn you of _one_ thing though. There has been a spot of revision due to new, invading forces. Sentries have established that the humans have formed a base on top of a large rock formation to the north. The Covenant, on the other hand, has planted one of their major cruisers, the _Truth and Reconciliation_, in a canyon to the northeast." He paused to draw a diagram of their base, the human base, and the cruiser. The pictures were draw very intricately and nicely. Ivan was a secretly a skilled artist, however, his host body's father forced him to join the military and denied his request to accelerate in art.

"But I don't _need_ a diagram!" 'Magee shouted. Everyone turned to look at him as Ivan whipped the white-board eraser at him.

"You'll use the diagram! You'll use it _and like it_!" he commanded. 'Magee sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

"……I apologize for Princess 'Magee, gentlemen. Anyway, our main objective is to seize both the ship and the base to neutralize the enemies. I suggest starting with the _Truth and Reconciliation_ first—" he said, circling it.

"—Excuse me, sir?" Nuremberg interrupted.

Ivan growled. "_What_,_ rookie_?"

"……Where am _I_ on the diagram?" he asked, lowering his hand.

Ivan stared at him with searing annoyance. He quickly drew a small stick figure with an officer's cap, a smile, and tendrils sprouting from his chest. "_Happy_?"

"That's a good drawring, sir," Nuremberg concluded with a grin.

"Suck up," Hindenburg grunted.

"Hold on! I throught we agreed on traking the human brase first seeing as it would bree obscrenely easy," Jared said, standing up.

Ivan sighed irately. "_No_, Jared……_remember_? We decided to take the human base _second_ last night. Or perhaps you can't because you spent the majority of your time _not _finding a Mercedes Benz! Which you _promised_ we would have by the end of July!" Ivan argued, placing both palms on the long table.

"Oh, you and your Mercredes! What are you groing trew drew with a Mercredes when you have three drozen LRVs, twelve Pelicrans, a scrore of _Mother_ tranks, and twelve Longsrords?!" Jared retorted. "Not to mrention the legions of Croverment artrillery!" Their _Mother_ tanks, in question, were Scorpions with the word "Mother" expertly spray-painted on either side.

"Uh, gosh Jared, maybe because, oh, I don't know……_all famous and otherwise successful totalitarian leaders had a Benz_!"

"Yeah, like frive hundred years agrow! They dron't make those crars anymore! They dron't even

make crars that run on _grasoline_ anymore!"

"You can't look threatening, but stylish, in an all-terrain war vehicle!" Ivan said.

"……We're wasting trime. I'm drun argruing abrout this," Jared said, taking his seat. All of the officials, Field Marshals, and SS officers were sniggering to themselves. All of the ex-humans, at least.

"Ha! I win. I apologize again, my dear Flood brothers."

"It's okay, Commander!" the entire Schützstaffeln answered in unison.

"Thank you. Now, we _will_ be taking the Covenant cruiser _first_. They are the tougher enemy, even though both will perish under the iron grip of the Flood!" Ivan said with a villainous chuckle. This got a few of the SS riled up, causing them to laugh or make other questionable Flood noises. "It's always smarter to take on the more difficult task first."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, Captain Anderson?"

"How will we overcome the enemy cruiser? I heard it's vast in size and teeming with troops."

"Excellent question, Anderson. I was just about to explain that operation. It's simple, really. There is a central gravity lift that they use to transport troops, weapons, and other artillery. If we just fight our way through the guardian ranks, we should make it to the lift and board it like so. We will also send a few waves of troops to the U-boat docking stations as well as the human base in order to 'borrow' their dropships," he said, illustrating more.

"Ha! _I_ asked an excellent question and _you_ didn't, Gorge Foreman," Anderson said to Hindenburg, who was seated between the Captain and the Commander. Hindenburg just glared at him.

"Then, it's only a short trip trew the crontrol cerenter where we cran sreize the Shrif Marstrer and step one will bree cromplete," Jared added, standing up and choosing a spot next to Ivan.

"And what about the humans?" Hindenburg inquired.

"Even simpler. They have set up a makeshift base on a large butte in a Forerunner structure with multiple levels, including a basement. All we have to do is send a group of Ivan Youth and the 20th Infantry in first. They will hack and tear their way through the ventilation and duct system. And if I know their Major, Silva, he'll be after souvenirs like always. We need to send some kamikaze soldiers that are willing to bare possible imprisonment or death. That should create a diversion while we send our Special Operative squadron in to assassinate those of the highest rank," Ivan said, sitting down and getting cozy in his chair.

Ringsminister Speekeasie wrote "But what about the rest of the galaxy?" on a piece of paper and held it up.

"Another fine question. My plan is to first take command of each planet via invasion the same way we're doing to the ship and the base. We must broadcast to each planet and explain how a Flood nation would cause their world to prosper economically and thrive. After the whole population bends to my whim and honours my propaganda, the Ivan Youth will weed through the masses and infect the strongest and most healthy inhabitants. We must leave children as they are but reach out to them. Show them that when they come of age, they too may serve their leader as a Flood soldier. Those who are deemed unfit will be put to work in camps. Then, for the last phase, we will kill them off after they cannot work anymore. It's the 'Final Solution to the Galactic Problem'. I also wish to command the galaxy from planet Earth."

"That's an excellent idea!" Hindenburg said.

"_Our_ plan. _Our _whim. _Our _propagrandra. Their _leadrers_." Jared correctly angrily.

"I _know_. That's what I _said_. Are you deaf, man?" Ivan sneered.

"And how crome we named it Ivan Youth? I'm a Crommander trew!" Jared challenged.

"Ivan Youth sounds more intimidating. Jared Youth? It doesn't do anything for me," Ivan explained. "Remember when I told you about the rulers named 'Ivan and Great' and 'Ivan the Terrible'? I've _never_ heard of a 'Jared' _anywhere_ in history."

"This sounds familiar. The humans tried this before and it didn't work in the end" Speekeasie wrote on the other side of the paper.

"True, they did. But, those were _humans_. They are _vastly_ incapable. Besides, the Flood's design allows the Ivan Youth to devour bodies and use them as soldiers. The humans just killed each other off and made mass amounts of corpses. _We_ are the Flood. With our huge size and strong will, there _isn't anything_ we can't do together," Ivan explained. "Now……if……if, if, if, if, if, for some minuet reason, the Covenant or the humans infiltrate our base, does anyone here have an idea—"

Everyone raised their hands immediately. Speekeasie scribbled something down on another sheet of paper.

"—That _doesn't_ involve troops running amok," Ivan finished. The Marshals and officials lowered their hands and looked discouraged. Speekeasie drew a large "X" through what he wrote.

"Oh, oh! I know!" Anderson said, removing his glasses. "Okay……we could all sing a song in the style of a showtune……_and dance_……not only would we inflict physical pain on them, would could sweeten the deal by adding psychological scarring as well."

The room returned his suggestion with an awkward stare.

"……Why you all lookin' at me like that?!" he demanded of his guards, who all turned away at their superior's order.

"Oh, boy! I _love_ showtunes! _Pound it_!" Nuremberg said, holding up a fist.

"Not on your life, sport," Anderson answered.

"I will! Bend over……" Hindenburg said with a malicious chuckle. Nuremberg hugged his knees to his chest.

Ivan nodded. "Hm……that's a good suggestion. Um, I'munna go with _no_," he answered with a sarcastic nod.

"Don't we _already_ drew that? I mean, traking _one look_ at _any_ of us would prut any strable breeing into cronniptions," Jared said.

"I think we should do that one song from _Bye, Bye Birdie_……_oooh_! I wanna be Conrad!" Nuremberg said as his hand shot up in the air.

"If anyone was to be Conrad, it would be _me_ because _I'm_ the prettiest," Anderson remarked arrogantly.

"Well, you_ are_ pretty," Nuremberg admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah, _right_! In _that_ case, Commander Ivan would be Conrad," Hindenburg retorted.

Ivan looked pleased with the Ringsmarschal's answer.

"True, but _you_ would be Kim because _you're_ the most annoying!" Anderson said to Hindenburg, who glared at him and punched his fist into his hand.

"Actually, Nuremberg would make a great Kim" Speeakeasie wrote.

"If I can't be Conrad, I wanna be Albert's mom! Al-_Bert_! Don't furget yer rubbers!" Nuremberg blurted out loudly.

"Holy hell! Shut up, you pee-on girly man!" Hindenburg growled, rising from his seat and grabbing Nuremberg in a Full-Nelson. Nuremberg yelped in submission as he was taken to the floor for a few seconds.

"You seem one hundred percent confident in this plan" Speekeasie wrote on another slice of paper.

"How _couldn't_ we? _We_ thought of it," Ivan said, looking towards Jared. "And _no_ species can destroy the Flood!" he added aggressively.

"Not one," Jared added.

"Heil!" shouted Officer Kristallnacht as he saluted. All of the officers joined in a group salute.

"A toast to Phase I of 'the Great Deluge' and to our honorable Commanders!" Captain Anderson said aloud, raising a shot of PAM.

"May our enemies drown in the crashing wave of infection!" the whole room answered, raising their glasses as well. Everyone tipped back at the same time, save for the Covenant combat forms and Commander Ivan. Ivan and his host body never drank alcohol, or PAM for that matter.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for your time and contributions. You are free to leave," Ivan said, gesturing to the door. He and Jared saw everyone out, but Ivan grabbed Captain Anderson's sleeve at the last moment. "……I need to speak with you _in private_," he said seductively with a mischievous grin. Captain Anderson chuckled as he rubbed his hands together.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE AND A HALF**

**D+ 967:28:15 (M to the ASSTER, C to the HEEF! Mission Dethklok)/**

**You throw like my graaaaaandmaaaaaa!**

**(Okay, guys……stop messing with my clock. It's pissing me off)**

**(cmon cheef, u knw im ya booooooy!)**

**(……)**

The Pelican brigade swooped heroically over the glittering sea. Tall-crested waves gathered and broke throughout the vibrantly blue body of water. Foehammer and the other pilots saw a construct up ahead, a headland beyond, and a whole lot of Covenant troops idling around, waiting for something to do.

Foehammer keyed her mike to a master channel. "_The heeeeeeat is on_,_ chilluns_! _Fiiiiiive to dirt_."

The Master Chief stood next to the open hatch and waited for "the signal": "_Tuuuuuuhchdown_! _Hit it_,_ Marines_!"

He was among the first to jump off the ramp, his boots leaving depressions in the soft sand. After a quick survey of his surroundings he took off down-spin from the dropship to the aliens patrolling the beachhead.

"Team Earth!" a young Marine yelled. Everyone lowered their rifles momentarily and shot him looks that clearly stated "go home, rookie!"

"I hate my life," he said, lowering his head in shame.

In no time, the beach become a living hell as the humans and the Covenant opened fire on one another.

The Spartan charged ahead of them and took aim at an Elite sitting on the rock. He was sitting in the tight crevice between two large boulders in the sand. Sitting up against the rear boulder, he sat playing an instrument that looked and sounded a lot like an accordion. He was singing a Sangheili folk song, much to the disinterest of the other Covenant soldiers in the surrounding area.

"_No_!" he yelled, abandoning the bellows and high-tailing it off of his perch. A half a clip served him well in putting the soldier down. Trampling over the instrument, he fired a trio of bursts at two fleeing Grunts as he stepped over a Marine who was writhing on the ground, screaming for his mother as he suffering from a severe abdominal wound by a group of Needler needles.

SPARTAN-117 saw a white-blue flash out of the corner of his eye. Turning to view the ensuing carnage, he witnessed a Marine look around, pick up his severed arm from the sand, and run off in the opposite direction.

The good news was the Covenant were actually outnumbered, for once, and the humans spent almost no time cutting down the patrol. The whole fight lasted only five minutes.

The Chief reviewed the mission as the troupe waited for further instructions. Find the base, find the map, stop the Covenant from turning Halo into a weapon. It was simple enough. The Covenant called this place "the Silent Cartographer"—which could presumably pinpoint the exact location of Halo's control center. Keyes had been very adamant about the mission: "My name is Captain Keyes and most of you will die virgins if you don't succeed……so the choice is yours."

In order to succeed, all they had to do was take away the map room from the aliens. Easier said than done.

The Spartan heard a burst of static as Foehammer's jovial voice came over the intercom. One of the Marines dropped his weapon, hollered as he clamped his hands over where his ears were located under his helmet, and flung himself on the ground. Some of the other Marines laughed, one kicked sand in his face.

"_Echo four niiiiiineteen inbound. Did somebody order a Waaaaaarthog_?"

"_Hey_,_ I didn't know you made house-calls_,_ Foehammer_!" a soldier said.

"_You knoooooow our motto_._ Weeeeee deliver_!" she said, the shadow of her Pelican hovering over the beach as the LRV dropped to the ground. The group of soldiers tussled over who was going to get to ride with the Master Chief. This shaved about four minutes off of the time in which they could have _already_ used to search. Finally, two managed to crawl to the Warthog and climb aboard, victorious. The Master Chief took the driver's seat and turned to the leatherneck in the passenger seat.

"There's no 'I' in team……but there is an 'I' in 'I win'!" the passenger said.

"No, dick, there's _two_," the other soldier said.

The Spartan shook his head as he planted his foot on the accelerator and the massive vehicle kicked up sand as it raced along the shore of the beach.

"_Now_ what do we do?" a Corporal inquired at their post under a large structure. All of the Marines paused for a few seconds, then dropped to the ground and curled in fetal positions, rocked back in forth, repeated a variety of different phrases, or sucked thumbs.

They rounded the side of a cliff and entered the open area beyond. There was a scattering of trees, some large, randomly placed boulders, and a lot of grassy hills.

"Must—must—shoot—Covenant!" the officer in the back yelled as he pulled the trigger and hosed the occupied area with bullets. His task was rewarded with a batch of dead Grunts and one Jackal who was screaming with dramatic pauses _lagato_ style. That means it sounded smooth and connected, for everyone who is free from the reign of totalitarian band instructors.

They continued on uphill, avoiding trees and rocks and wary of any Covenant presence. It wasn't long before they neared the top of the slope and spotted a massive structure beyond. The top curved downward, cut in dramatically, and gave way to a flat upper level where a Covenant dropship was busy unloading the last of its troops. Then, it hovered above the structure for a moment, swung around, and passed right over them. The Marine behind the LAAG stared wide-eyed as the dropship's shadow covered them momentarily.

"Must—must—shoot—" he stuttered.

"—Get it together, man!" the Marine in the passenger seat said, grabbing a hold of his fellow soldier's arm.

The Master Chief turned the Warthog's engine off, jumped out of the vehicle, readied his new pistol, which was named "Stalingrad", and turned to the Marines.

"Stand down. I'll be right back," he ordered.

"Yeeeah, boy! I mean……sir, yes sir."

The Spartan eased behind a fallen log, which provided a fair amount of cover. Four Grunts and their Elite commander fell victim to "Stalingrad's" barricade of bullets. The Chief eased back to the LRV and set out for the other hill that would surely take them up to the alien structure.

The Master Chief aimed the vehicle for the front of the complex, spotted the hallway that extended back towards the face of the cliff, and drove straight inside. It was a tight fit, but, the Master Chief can do anything. Anyone that got in the way was mowed down……anyone that survived was shot by either of the Marines. It was kind of gritty, but the strategy worked.

Once the outer part of the structure had been cleared, the Master Chief parked the LRV where the Marines could get a good shot in case he needed back up, and hopped out. He ventured inside and down a series of ramps to the antechamber below. It was _full_ of aliens. He tossed a grenade into the open chamber and backed up the ramp again. It detonated loudly and showered the room with body parts.

Cortana gave him a spot of advice, "don't let them lock the doors!"

Too late. The doors flashed noiselessly shut.

"Nice job," Cortana said.

"A little more notice would have been nice," the Spartan grumbled, glaring at the door. He could just make out the gold tint of a Zealot Elite behind the door. Spotting the Master Chief, it started laughing uproariously and pointing at him. The human glared harder at the alien as Cortana used his suit's radio to contact Captain Keyes.

"_Cortana to Keyes_……"

"_My name is Captain Keyes_,_ go ahead Cortana_,_ have you found the guy who doesn't talk but knows about Halo's Control Center_?"

The Elite was now making a variety of grotesque faces at the Spartan, who watched silently through the glass window near the top of the door.

"_Um_..._negative_,_ Captain_._ The_—"

"—_My name is Captain Keyes, come on_!_ My name is Captain Keyes, you were supposed to get inside and find him_!"

"……_Um_,_ yeah_. _Look_, _the Covenant have impeded our progress_._ We can't proceed until we can disable the installation's secure_—"

"—_My name is Captain Keyes_……_lame_."

"……_Disable the installation's security system_," Cortana finished.

"_My name is Captain Keyes_,_ no need to get touchy_._ My name is Captain Keyes_,_ get your ass off the grass and get going_,_ lest I serve you two up some American justice_……_otherwise known as beat you with my shoe_! _My name is Captain Keyes and if it worked on Miranda_,_ it'll work on you_,_ too_!" he added threateningly.

Now the Elite had turned around and was waving his hindquarters in the Chief's direction. He began pounding on the door with rage and then signed "I'm going to beat the hell out of you".

"_My name is Captain Keyes_,_ use any means possible to beat the Covenant and find that quiet mapmaker guy. My name is Captain Keyes_,_ failure is not an option_!"

The Master Chief had given up on the Elite and was headed up the ramps and back out to the Warthog.

"_My name is Captain Keyes_,_ good luck people_._ My name is Captain Keyes, remember_,_ if you fail_……_eternal virginity plus you equals best of friends_," he issued a friendly reminder as his mike keyed off.

The Pelican currently carrying Captain Keyes, Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson, and a group of other Marines who really weren't that important headed towards the region where a cache of Covenant weapons was said to have been buried. It was kind of like a treasure hunt, one could say, and Keyes went with that notation in order to wrangle in Marines to accompany him.

Keyes tried his hardest to ignore the incessant pounding of the music that came over the speakers. It was the same kind of young people's jargon that Miranda listened to. He remembered at three thirty three every day back home, she'd blare the same senseless, metallic noise from her room for a few hours or until the people on their floor of the apartment complex came over to complain.

"So, this one time—" Private Manuel Mendoza began.

"—At band camp?" Private Marco Bisenti finished. The other leathernecks laughed.

"No! This one time, I had this dream where these Covenant, right? They were abducting me from our barracks on Reach, and then they were—"

"—Mendoza! _Don't_ tell me your fantasy, we're not that close," Sergeant Johnson barked.

"It wasn't a fantasy, it was a _dream_! It could be a _sign_!"

"Yeah, I sign thatcher gonna gitcher ass beaten by some alien scum if ya don't shape up!"

"……Why do we have to listen to this old stuff, Sarge?" Mendoza asked.

"To remind you grunts of what it is we're fightin' for."

"……The band 'Doomacalypse'?"

"_No_! Earth, ya stupid wetback," Johnson growled.

"Hey, if the Covenant want to wipe out this particular part of my history, that's _fine by me_," Bisenti said.

"You tell 'em that next time, Bisenti. I'm sure they'd be_ happy_ to oblige."

"……My name is Captain Keyes, who packed the sandwiches, I'm getting hungry," he said abruptly.

"Uh, sir? What are you _talkin'_ about?" Mendoza questioned.

"……Damn," Corporal Lovik said. "I _knew_ I was forgetting something!"

"……My name is Captain Keyes and I'm demoting you to Butt-Private and if we ever start a band, _you're_ going to get stuck playing bass."

"Aw, man!"

The Master Chief climbed back into the Warthog, backed it through the structure, and started off down the opposite slope. He stopped the vehicle for a moment to survey the new area. There was a small hill close to their position and he could make out the shield of a Jackal further beyond it. He exited the Warthog and checked "Stalingrad".

"Oh my stars and garters, doesn't he realize he's got two Marines and a LAAG gun?" the gunner Marine whispered to the passenger.

"……You know, the Chief told me to tell you that he thinks you're an asshole," he answered, annoyed by his buddy.

The Spartan eased his way up on the hill. Keeping an extremely low profile, he noticed a group of about five Jackals, two Elites, and a few wandering Grunts. He pulled the pin on a grenade, lobbed it just right, and it landed right in the center of the ring of Jackals. They all squawked in surprise and were blown to bits. The ensuing explosion took out one Grunt and blew a leg off of an Elite. He finished off the rest of the enemies, went back down the tiny slope, and onto the strand of beach. He could see the remains of a Warthog that had been completely flipped over, the bodies and weapons of the Marines boarding it strewn in the sand.

He approached the wreckage, took the Marine's dog tags, and scavenged some ammo and grenades. He had just stood up again, when he was kicked in the back of the knee and someone shouted, "die!" He grabbed the back of his smarting knee and whipped around to see a Grunt fleeing the scene, hollering like a Banshee and flailing his arms. He picked up a plasma grenade dropped by one of the Elites and whipped it at the Grunt. It fused to the back of his methane tank and pulsed. It didn't take long for it to go off and spatter a nearby rock with the alien's gore, the exploding methane tank providing a satisfying _bang_, followed by a hissing as the gas escaped.

"Tell me something, Cortana. How come you're always instructing me to go up gravity lifts, run down corridors, sneak through forests, and creep into storage rooms to get you extra sticks of RAM without ever letting me know of the Covenant forces or brown-nosing Naval personnel that seem to inhabit such places?" he inquired, sneaking up a small pathway that led deeper into the island.

"Because I hate you……" she said.

"I knew it," he answered as a cluster of red dots appeared on his motion sensor. He charged around the corner and opened fire on a group of Grunts. Despite the urging from the Elite behind them, some took cover behind the boulders that dotted the area or ran past him, most of which ended up dead within the minute. Boulders are _absolutely horrid_ at coordinating infantry placement. He jumped on top of a rock and hosed the Elite with armour-piercing bullets from "Valerie". He crumpled into a bloody heap. The Spartan jumped off of the boulder and trudged up the pathway. He had just finished reloading when he looked up just in time to see the back of a crimson Elite who was watching the area beyond. He grabbed the alien's four jaws from behind and held them tight. Draggin the soldier back, he began to grill him.

"Where's the money?" the Chief demanded.

"I-I do not know, Big Daddy!"

"I _told you_ to have my money. It's Sunday."

"But-but today is a _holy_ day for me! I am not supposed to—"

"—It's a _holy_ day for _me_, too. I've gotta keep holy the 'Sab_death_'. _This'll_ teach you to steal from honest, working men," Master Chief said, snapping the alien's long neck. As soon as he released the body, the Elite dropped to the grass like a brick of lead.

"See you in St. Louie," Chief said before taking up "Stalingrad".

"……Chief?" Cortana said.

"Yes?"

"……'Sab_death_'?"

"……Yeah, it sounded a lot more threatening when I suggested it to those naval officers as a potential grindcore band name."

Two large red dots appear on his HUD. Chancing a look around the bend, he spotted a pair of Hunters conversing on a small, metal docking station in the middle of the clearing. He crouched and almost crawled over to a cluster of boulders, trying his hardest not to be heard. Hunters had very sensitive hearing and had caught him off guard or taken him by surprise before. He ducked behind the nearest boulder and used the scope on the pistol to zoom in and locate a patch of orange skin unprotected by the tank-like armour. Satisfied that the area he chose was sufficient enough, he fired one solitary round. The bullet took the Hunter's life right away and he collapsed onto his bond brotha, who roared with rage and lobbed a burning ball of energy at his rock. The splash damage of the shot managed to take its toll, flinging him against the cliff wall. The second shot came up short and was blocked by a tree. Ignoring the trickle of blood that pooled in his left eye, he rolled out from behind the rock and whipped a grenade at the beast. He had tossed it perfectly, landing right at its feet. The smoke and flash had briefly confused the Hunter. The Master Chief slid to where the massive alien stood and unloaded a single round into unprotected skin. The tank-like alien cursed loudly and ceased to exist.

The Master Chief stood and proceeded to follow the path as he sloped upwards on the opposite side, dealt with a team of Jackals, a squadron of Grunts led by a blue-armoured Elite, and moved around to the back of a huge structure protruding from out of a cliff wall. He slipped into a dark archway, whipped a Grunt in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle and continued on into the gloomy corridors. His biochemically altered eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and stopped only once to feed a fresh magazine to "Valerie". Just as he was about to bring the weapon down to firing range, he heard the sound of a plasma pistol firing and saw a Hunter fall from behind one of the many cargo modules scattered in the room. He heard the murmuring of a few Grunts as the Hunter began cursing openly.

"Da-yum, nigga! Wut da hell ya think ya doin'?! Y'all gotta be……y'know wut? Imo cap y'ass!" he decided, as the other Hunter fell on top of him. Grunts scurried out from behind other modules and began panicking as they saw the Master Chief.

"Good going, guys! You foiled my plans _again_! Now I have to think up _another_ trap!" an Elite with black armour whined as he stepped out from a module near the toppled Hunters. He rolled his eyes, sighed loudly, and grabbed the Grunts by the scruff of their necks. Dragging them out of the structure, right past the human, the Elite was busy grumbling to himself.

"I am going to require a redo, okay? I will let you off this time if you do not shoot us on the way out," he bargained. Before the Master Chief had time for a reaction, the party had exited.

"I hate this place……" the Master Chief said, shaking his head and continuing into the room.

"Um……okay then. Head through that archway, the security center lies beyond," Cortana said. "Jeez……'Sab_death_'?"

"Can we drop the 'Sab_death_' thing, please?"

He followed Cortana's directions, entered a hall, and came to a room that featured a small holo- panel in the center with a small constellation of lights floating above it.

"Use the holo-panel to shut down the security system," she instructed. Eager to complete the task before he was attacked or assaulted mentally again, he pushed a button on the holo-panel.

"Good!" she exclaimed. "That should open up the door that leads into the main shaft. Now all we have to do is find the Silent Cartographer and the map to the control room."

"Right," the Master Chief said, "that, and risking the possibility of capture in unknown territory possibly held by the enemy and possibly without air support."

"Say 'possibly' one more time," Cortana said.

"……Possibly."

With the security system neutralized, the Master Chief headed back out through the alien structure and towards the surface.

Stanley, Big Pat, and "Dangerous" Dan had parked the Warthog a good distance away from the entrance to their base, on the grounds that they didn't see anything, and they predicted that nothing out of the ordinary would take place. Big Pat was sitting on the hood of the vehicle picking at dead Covenant claws, Stanley was chain-smoking, and "Dangerous" Dan was running around making gleeful carrier noises.

"……Is it bad that I think Commander Ivan is attractive? Like, I hate him _so much_……but he's irresistible," Stanley asked.

Big Pat turned to him and remained silent for a moment. "……Are you _serious_?"

"Well, c'mon, he's got a nice body. The guy works out every day," Stan said with a tiger growl.

"No seriously, Stanley. Have you ever taken a good look at 'im? There's a little invention called 'braces' and I _seriously_ think he should look into it."

"Whatever, man. You know, for a while, I've had these strange fantasies about letting him—" Stanley continued.

"—You wanna know something? I don't wanna hear about it," Big Pat said quietly.

"Okay, but you're missin' out."

"……Oh yeah, wull……I've been thinkin' a lot about Pierre lately."

"Pierre? Who the hell's Pierre?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah, you know, the Covenant Flood?"

Stanley stared blankly at Big Pat.

"Oh, c'mon! You know, the _only_ Covenant Flood who insist on wearing _pants_?"

"_Oh_……_that_ guy," Stanley answered. "I'm going to have to agree on that being worse than Ivan."

"I dunno, I admire his individuality," Big Pat said.

"Even _we_ have friends—" they both heard "Dangerous" Dan smack into a tree and fall over. "—Well……friend," Stanley finished.

"I'm Pierre's friend, I think."

"Pat, he freaks out whenever anyone talks to him and he sits in the quarters all day and plays Solitaire," Stanley said.

"So? He's a good guy. He never meant any harm."

"……And look at Dan. He's the only carrier who won't explode."

Stanley and Pat both shrugged and continued to relax. A few minutes later, they both heard a _whooshing _sound. Stanley perked up and Big Pat looked around anxiously.

"_That_ can't be a good thing," Stan stated.

"Did you turn the 'Hog on?"

"Nope, it's off."

"And the radio?"

"Also off."

Stanley grabbed a hold of "Dangerous" Dan and gave him a smack to shut him up. All three Floods listened intently, but there seemed to be a ceasing of noise other than insects and swamp birds. Stanley hopped into the vehicle and grabbed a pistol. He cocked it and turned to Big Pat.

"I'm gonna go make a sweep of the area."

"NO! Don't leave me here!"

"Relax, Pat. You'll be fine, I promise."

"And what if I'm _not_?!"

"……Here," Stanley said as he reached into the Warthog, grabbed a MA5B assault rifle, and shoved it in his direction. "Use this."

"Stan, you _know_ I only know how to use _plasma_ weapons!"

"Shut up, you baby. You wanna dirt bottle?"

"I don't wanna friggin' dirt bottle……" Pat growled, tightening his grip on the weapon.

"Look, this is no big deal, standard issue Marine Corp weapons are about as complex as Nickelback songs. It's loaded now, okay? When you run outta bullets, you take this cartridge, you pop the other one out of the end here, and you stick the new one in, got it? It's kind of like me on Saturday nights."

"_What_ was that?"

"……Well, I'll be on my way now," Stanley said as he quickly headed off back the way they came.

Big Pat clutched the rifle close like a security blanket. He desperately wished to be back at the base reading through old issues of "Better Homes and Gardens". "Dangerous" Dan was sitting on the ground a few feet away, slapping rocks around with his tentacles. Pat stiffened as he heard someone, or _something_, start to crash through the brush. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was part of a group. He nervously cocked the MA5B and was worrying about wetting the lower half of worn Covenant armour. That would be highly embarrassing if the other Floods found out if that happened. The voices and sloshing of water became increasingly louder and closer. Big Pat was almost in a state of hysteria now. Not only was Stanley, the only experience the squad had, gone, he had to face a pack of intruders who were probably going to open fire, or _worse_. A team of about six or seven Marines ripped through the foliage. Pat was too petrified to even shout for Stanley. They all stopped when they noticed Big Pat standing next to the Warthog. Both he and the Marines stood in both utter terror and confusion.

"What the hell _is_ that thing?!" one younger Marine said aloud.

"……_What_ did you just call me?!" Big Pat asked, slowly but harshly.

"Who me? I didn't say anything," the soldier answered sarcastically.

"Yeah you did, you said _something_……"

"Couldn't be."

"Yes! Yes you did!"

"What did I say?"

"You said _it_!"

"What?"

"IT!"

"It?"

"Yeah, you called me—"

"—I called you '_a thing_'!" the leatherneck answered. "Yeah it was me and I'd do it _again_, too!"

Big Pat yelled some sort of battle cry, cocked the rifle, and began unloading clips into the unsuspecting soldiers.

"I AM _NOT_ A THING!" he screamed.

After a good few moments of scattering and assault rifle bursts, three Marines roughly tackled him to the ground and held his arms behind his back. "AH! NO! NOT COOL! STANLEY!" Big Pat yelled out, but his voice was soon muffled by the Marines as they sat on him.

"Get him in the 'Hog. Four of you take him back to the Pelican while I call on emergency," the Sergeant said as he watched four men file into their own Warthog. "Dangerous" Dan was left on the ground to watch his friend get manhandled. Stanley stood behind the cover of a thick bush, hoping that in all of the turmoil, two or more of the Marines would touch each other by "accident".

"Stanley!" Pat yelled out as one Marine started the Warthog up. "HELP! They're making me hit myself!" Big Pat screamed as the Warthog sped off down the swamp. Stanley couldn't do anything but watch as his friend was taken POWMIA. He looked down to "Dangerous" Dan, who was a mix of what Stanley guessed was shocked and depressed and making random noises to match those descriptions.

"……Shit," Stanley said to himself nervously, heaving the carrier over his shoulder and speeding towards the base. "There wasn't any touching. That was the _worst_ dogpile I've ever watched voyeuristically."

Patrick Flood sat between the driver and passenger Marines and was being jeered at uncomfortably by the soldiers. Their current undertaking was acting like a brash older siblings and making him hit himself.

"Stop hittin' yourself!"  
"I'm _not_ hittin' myself."

"Yeah, stop hittin' yourself!"

"I'm_ not_!"

"Why ya hittin' yourself?!"

"I'M _NOT_!! Yer _makin' me_!"

Two of the Marines ceased their cruel intentions to writhe with more laughter.

"I don't like this game very much," Big Pat said.

"You're _not supposed_ to like it, bitch!" the gunner said, lowering the muzzle of the turret.

The Marine to Big Pat's left quickly grabbed him in a Vulcan Nerve Pinch.

"OW! What the hell?!" he said loudly.

"That's enough! Keep your hands to yourself," the gunner growled. The passenger Marine had just finished tying another rope around Pat to bind his other arm.

"……So, you guys look real tough. I bet you like, don't even put milk in your cereal……" Pat said.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear anything from you until we reach our destination!" gunner Marine yelled to Big Pat.

"Yes, sir," Pat said, instantly ceasing his idle chit-chat. _This day is a giant bastard on a stick_, Big Pat thought to himself.

"Okay, _this_ patrol could have gone a hell of a lot better," Stanley said as he paced back in forth near the lift into the base.

"Will ya stap tackin' to yaself? Ya sound like a fathafackin' idiot," Harvey said, turning the page in his paper.

"Dangerous" Dan made a Flood noise in concurrence.

"Let's see……Pat's POWMIA, all we have is an M6D, and I don't know when the humans will be back. This is certainly a dilemma."

"Maybe ya shoulda brought out yer big 'gun', or didja run outta amma last night? Ya know, bean' a fiyah-fightin' queyah and all."

Dan made another noise. Over Dan's various sound effects and Harvey's homophobic slander, he could hear what sounded like a million cell phones vibrating at the same time. It rattled the various objects that were sitting on Harvey's desk. The Commander's fleet was gearing up to depart for their invasion of the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and the Covenant Spirits had already been started up.

"I suppose this means that I'll have to call up the Ringling Brothers to send in the clowns," Stanley said to himself. He pulled out the radio in his utility belt. He activated it and casually called an alert.

"Commanders Jared and Ivan……are either of you even _attempting_ to read me?" Stanley waited for an answer, looking towards the sky.

"What is it Stranley?" he heard Jared answer.

"……Did you just call me 'Stranley', sir?"

"……What drew you want?"

"Well, I gotta hand it to you, Commander……when your cronies actually deployed Patrick and I for swamp patrol, some humans _actually_ came. You were right, for once," Stanley said loudly and in a slurred tone as he clutched the radio again.

"Well, well……I drew brelive you owe Ivan and I an aprologree," Jared replied.

"Well, Commander Jared, if I knew what an 'aprologree' was, you can bet your squirming, fascist heart that I would give it to you," Stanley said.

Jared was about to lay down the line on Stanley, but he turned his radio off. Stanley looked down at "Dangerous" Dan, who was sitting on the floor.

The carrier made another squelching noise.

"Yeah……I hope," Stanley said.

"Humans? Psh……there aren't any humans," Harvey chuckled with disbelief. "You must be seein' things. My mam always told me 'you'd go blind' if you were a queyah."

"How many fingers m'I holdin' up, Harv?" Stanley said, holding out four fingers.

"Psh, _seven_."

Stanley looked from his hand to the secretary and back again. "Yep……you're straight all right."

Stan tried his hardest to fight a silent mental breakdown as he arrived to a weapons storage room a few levels underground in the Flood base. He began to reload his weapons and scavenge what he could from what the Flood had. He had just equipped a few fragmentation grenades, when Captain Anderson approached him.

"Private Stanley," he said.

"_Wha_-_ut_?" Stanley drawled in a frustrated tone as he turned to face him.

"You and several other soldiers have been selected to be part of the resistance from within our dwelling. _Another_ human strike team has been confirmed to be headed this way and we need to be prepared _just in case_ they make it inside the base," Anderson explained.

Stanley rolled his eyes. "I _know_, you just sent me out there."

"Oh, oh_ right_, sorry. Ha, I forgot about that," he said with a laugh. Captain Anderson had an awkward laugh. It wasn't really categorized as "weird" or "annoying", it was just……awkward.

"With all do respect, Andy, I would actually like to see if there was any way I could attempt to rescue my—"

Anderson held up a hand, which silenced Stanley. "—I understand that your……_partner_……is missing," he said the word "partner" bitterly. "I tried to convince the Field Marshals to find other soldiers, but, you know how stubborn they are. I apologize, but you must report there immediately."

"Um……thanks, I think," Stanley said.

"If you want me to, I'll walk you down to your assigned level," Captain Anderson added hopefully.

"I'm a big boy, Anderson, I _think_ I can handle it," Stanley answered, cocking his M6D sheepishly.

"……Did you know that 'Schützstaffel' roughly translates to 'protection squad' in German? And I'm the _Captain_ of said protection squad, so rest assured, you'll be completely safe with me at your side."

"Yes……I'm sure your heavily adorned monkey suit serves as a stark reminder to all us regular soldiers," Stanley added.

"You think it looks good on me?" Anderson inquired, tugging on the bottom of his black tunic.

Stanley, who was more or less the Colonel Hogan of the Flood army, decided to go ahead and mess with the Captain.

"_Oh yes_, Captain Anderson. The way all of your fake medals sit on your chest _really_ highlight your Floodhood and I _love_ the way these rope thingys cascade over your arms."

"……Oh God," Anderson choked nervously as Stanley fondled some of his tendrils. "I-If you promise to start coming to drill practice in the morning, I'll make sure that you don't work……really! You and I can do something else instead," Anderson asked, tugging on his collar.

"But then how will you watch me pleasure myself?"

"Well, if you'll let me, I'll—"

"—Say……don't you have Shitsstaffeln officers to push around somewhere?"

"Actually, I must leave with the Commanders for our raid on the _Truth and Reconciliation_. And, it's _Schützstaffeln_, Private Stanley, just so you remember next time." The officer smiled at him and heard static on his radio.

"_Anderson_! _Get your tight ass down here on the double_!" Ivan growled over the frequency.

"Yes, mein Führer," Anderson answered. "Well, I should be on my way now. The Commander wants me, so we can go," he said, backing up towards the door and hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

"The Commander _wants_ you so he can fuck you," Stanley correct quietly, refusing to take the time to look over his shoulder.

"It was, er……it was nice talking to you, Private Stanley."

"_What_ever."

"We should do this again sometime. Perhaps you could accompany me on my morning patrol. We could—" Anderson stopped short as he tripped over the leg of a Shade turret, but caught himself by grabbing onto the doorframe of an open automatic door. Looking highly embarrassed as he stood up, he shouted, "Heil Ivan!" and bolted through the door.

Stanley shrugged. "He'd be cuter if he wasn't an ignorant automaton," he told himself. He spun the M6D around his index finger by the trigger and headed the opposite way of the officer. The "human strike team" threat was usually propaganda that Jared and Ivan used to get the Flood to go anywhere they wanted them. It was one of their favourites out of all the excuses created besides "because I told you so!" However, this was actually a legitimate excuse, seeing as humans _were_ finally invading.

Stanley strutted up to a heavy door a few minutes later, waited for it to react to his presence, then it finally slid open slowly. The thing was so old, it pissed Stan off a great deal. Upon his entrance into the

open room, he noticed three other human combat forms occupied the room as well. All three were lying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. A few infection forms skuttled about or started attacking each other.

"Would you rather……slide down a fifty foot razor into a vat of alcohol or have all of your tentacles ripped out slowly by one of those tiny aliens with the gas-masks?" one suddenly addressed the others. He had a nasally voice and his host body looked like he had lived in his mom's basement for most, if not all, of his life.

"……I'd rather _drink_ the alcohol in the vat," the one to his right said. He was wearing ODST black instead of gray Marine armour. The Flood to his left was wearing the same kind of garb as Stanley, only he was sporting a 7.62 bullet belt and an eye patch with an ace of spades card and some roses on it over his left eye.

"_No_! It's not ingestible alcohol! Stop trying to weasel out of these all the time!"

"What are we doing, gentlemen?" Stanley said as he approached them.

"Hey Stan, what's new?" the Flood in black addressed him, lighting up a cigarette.

"Did you get 'resistance' duty too?" the eye patch Flood inquired sarcastically as he sat up and air quoted.

"No, I like to hang out in the bowels of the Flood containment building for fun," Stanley answered, equally sarcastic.

"Man, Covenants are _so_ stupid," the nerdy one said with full machine-gun laughter. Now, his laugh was _nowhere_ near as cool as Riley's, but it was still worth the wait.

"Hey, my significant other is half Covenant," Stanley said.

"How do you two make babies? I mean, how do you find the holes in one of those things?" the black clad Flood laughed. The others did as well.

"Very carefully," Stanley said, snatching the cigarette out of the black-clad Flood's mouth. "Don't worry about it, Ron. For the moment, he's been taken hostage by a group of Marines. Hitler's little angel wouldn't even let me go out and find him."

"Damn, tough luck," the Flood with the patch said. They referred to him as "Patch" or his Flood name, Maurice.

"I hope he's not in _too_ much pain, he's kind of a puss. So, are we going to sit around here all day like circle jerks or what?

"I um……I-I kinda thought we would do that," the nerdy Flood said softly.

"What? Are you gonna turn out like Stanley?" the ODST Flood asked.

"Hey, c'mon now," Stanley said.

"I'm sorry, Stan, it's just, ya know, a straight guy thing," he answered casually.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Well, we don't need to be doing our jobs just yet, let's get a game of cards goin'," Stanley suggested.

Captain Keyes, Sergeant Johnson, and the rest of the second recon squad finally arrived at the swamp. The ride had been going smoothly, until the pilot fell asleep at the wheel, which caused the Pelican to crash-land into the steamy swamp. Upon impact, the team in the troop bay was violently jerked out of their seats and slammed into the archway to the cockpit. The Pelican had bounced off of a wide boulder and slid into a patch of thick mud, causing the troops to slide to the back of the troop bay and into the hatch door.

"My name is Captain Keyes……what the oingo just happened?" he said from underneath a pile of soldiers.

"Yeah, what gives?!" Johnson agreed.

"……Wha?! Huh? W-what's goin' on?" the pilot said, awaking with a start and looking around.

"Filmore! How many times has Military Driver's Ed told you _never_ to operate machinery when drowsy?!" Johnson demanded.

"I can't help it, sir. I haven't had any sleep since we landed on this thing. Look! These aren't bags, these are all-out _luggage_!" Filmore said, pointing to his eyes. He opened the hatch for the soldiers without saying another word.

"Go, go, go!" Johnson ordered and they all literally _fell_ out of the Pelican, Johnson being the only one on his feet.

Once everyone had got their bearings together, they hunted high and low, trying to find anything that looked of Covenant origin or that they could work into an A-ha song.

"Hey, look what I found!" Private Wallace A. Jenkins said, climbing into the passenger seat of Stanley and Big Pat's abandoned Warthog.

"Find anything, Jenkins?" Johnson asked.

"Nothing of relevant importance, Sarge……hey, look! It's my Bob Seger CD! I was wondering where this thing went! Reunited and it feels _so_ good," the Private said, hugging the compact disc.

"I'd hate to break up this lovely reunion, but we gotta _job_ to do! Captain Keyes, we—Keyes? Keyes?" Johnson said, searching around the Warthog for the missing Captain.

"Where did he go?" Jenkins asked.

"Do you think he got taken by the Swamp Monster? Like from the Bailey School Kid's book?" Private Bisenti suggested. "He's bound to be here _somewhere_. The conditions are _just right_."

"Shut up! I've had enough of _you_, _Mendoza_!" Johnson snapped.

"_What_?! I didn't say anything, Sarge!"

"I said zip it up, lock it up, and toss the key, _Mendoza_!"

"I _hate_ your voice……" Mendoza grunted to Bisenti.

Johnson had just finished searching behind a wide tree, when he turned around to see Captain Keyes spring out of some shrubbery.

"MynameisCaptainKeyesBOO!" he hollered.

Johnson raised an eyebrow in confusion. "……Captain?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, did I scare you?" he asked.

"……Mentally, yes. Emotionally, no."

"Sarge! I can see a big building up ahead! That might be what we're looking for!" Bisenti said from his new perch on top of a fallen tree.

"All clear, Captain?" the Sergeant inquired of the Captain.

"My name is Captain Keyes……ride 'em in raw hide, boys……."

"Okay, let's move!" Johnson ordered, pointing to the harsh glow of the lights tapered to the building.

Their pass through the rest of the swamp went uneventful, thankfully. The only thing that was of minor threat was Captain Keyes when he decided to spook some of his men. The sad part was that it worked every time, even after seconds, thirds, and fourths.

Upon arrival at the structure, the squad took notice of the rope and sign strung across the entrance.

"What does it say?" Jenkins questioned.

"……Here—Thar—Be—Floods?" Mendoza read out loud.

"What in the hell does _that_ mean?" Johnson barked.

"Obviously, this place is prone to flash flooding, like when it rains too much and, when paired with a low elevation, can lead to a deluge of water in seemingly unlikely and unwanted places," Corporal Lovik threw in his two cents.

"Thanks, Bill Nye," Bisenti said.

"My name is Captain Keyes, but we're can't afford to sit out here and watch it. My name is Captain Keyes, my hair's gonna be a mess if we don't get inside soon!" he commented, placing his arms over his head.

"Mendoza! Move it up!" Johnson yelled, ushering him forward. The disgruntled Marine rolled his eyes and crept to point, the others in tow.

"Heh, heh, hey guys, come check this out," Jenkins said, staring at the ground. He was pointing at a large doormat that said "Hi, I'm Mat."

"……Gitcher ass inside, Marine," Johnson growled, grabbing him by the collar of his uniform and shoving him inside.

The structure inside was well lit. There was a massive lift in the center of the immense room and uncomfortably low ceilings. The only source of colour that wasn't gray emulated from a huge mural on the opposite wall. It depicted what seemed to be a portrait of a human figure perched on a steep precipice, overlooking a wide-running valley on the ring world. The silhouetted figure was grasping a flagpole and on the flag, an insignia that frighteningly resembled a swastika.

"Oh, what the fuck kinda place _is this_?!" Johnson fumed.

"Hey, Sarge!" Bisenti said, nudging the noncom and pointing to a desk to the far right of the room, near the lift. The front of the desk was splayed with portraits of the same insignia and of two figures who went unidentified by the Marines. There was also a large banner strung across the room in which someone had tried to cross out the "Happy Fortieth Birthday!" and wrote "One People, Seven Rings, Two Leaders!" and a series of oddly shaped scratch marks that must have served as another language.

"Who _lives_ here?!" Lovik dramatically whispered to Johnson as they watched a hand materialize from behind a newspaper and adjust the volume on a radio. A long wisp of smoke trailed in a nearly straight line towards the ceiling. They were somewhat farther away, but the hand looked relatively human.

"Oh my God! It's the demon hand of Major Robards, returning to seek its revenge on us!" Jenkins yelled. Johnson slapped him across the face to shut him up.

"What do you think, Captain?" Johnson whispered.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I like to whisper too," he answered. "My name is Captain Keyes, let's go see if that hand knows anything about the Covenant or the weapons they might be hiding."

"Incredible……_this_ guy happens to be the most important honky in this whole goddamn armada," Johnson replied.

The squad advanced on the being at the desk, weapons at the ready, in case this was some kind of trap. The radio was playing a fantastically old song that was sung in a language other than English and accompanied by an accordion.

"Oh, Earth……yer so crazy. Those were tha days," the sudden comment startled the Marines. Finally arriving at the desk, the platoon took the time to scan the top of it. There was a white mug with a few pens in it that read "Don't Ask Me About My Weekend" and one with a recognizable UNSC insignia.

"……Excuse me," Johnson said, coming to the conclusion that whoever was sitting behind the paper was an active member of the UNSC. He got no response. He cleared his throat loudly. They saw a hand move out a second time and click the volume a few notches higher.

"A-_hem_!" Johnson cleared his throat rather loudly and dramatically, causing a slight echo in the room. Within an instant, the paper folded in half and revealed its owner. There was a positive response from the humans consisting of gasps, groans, and a display of fake gagging.

The person, or rather, what _might_ have been a person at one time, stared back at them with an unremittingly peeved stare. His head was painfully jerked over, leaning on one shoulder, and long tendrils lively sprouted from the base of his neck and into his chest. A cluster of tentacles grew from one wrist.

"Oh thank God! It's _not_ Major Robards's hand. _That _would have been really, _really_ freaky," Jenkins sighed with relief.

"……Ken I _help_ you?" he inquired spitefully, rolling his eyes, as if the Marines were a complete waste of his time.

"Sweet Jesus, what _happened_ to you, soldier?" Johnson asked.

"Look, are you gonna waste my tam or do ya need help, waht, waht is it?" he continued, continuously clicking a pen on the desktop.

"My name is Captain Keyes and _we_ wanna know if _you_ know anything about a staché of Covenant weapons," the Captain came forth, barely fazed by the state of the former Marine.

"If yer tackin' about tha yahmary, that's classifiahd. Tha Commandas wouldn't be too thrilled if I told ya."

"Commanders? Are there still Marines that, um, _don't_ look like hideous freaks in this vicinity?" Johnson grilled.

"You got a _prablem_ with tha way I look, ya fathafackin' homo?"

Johnson made an attempt to lunge at the beast, but Bisenti and Mendoza held him back.

"My name is Captain Keyes and is there a way we could see your commanding officers?"

"……Why do you tack like that? Ya sound like a fackin' retahd," the thing laughed.

"Is there any way we could see your Commanders and ask?" Jenkins tried.

"Do ya _have_ an appointment?"

"……No?"

Harvey stared at the innocent Private for a good long time. Eventually, he put his cigarette back in his mouth slowly. Pushing himself off of a scattering of paper on the desk with his elbows, he pulled a clipboard out from underneath it. He took the time to lazily skim through it, letting the pages fall back in place one by one.

"Ahm sorry, but tha Commandas are booked until……late next week."

"What? How can that be? Who else could need an—"

"—Hey! Suck my cack! In orda ta see tha Commandas, you need an appointment. That's tha rules. Now, I can set ya up if ya wanna start tackin' ta me like civilized human beens," Harvey said, flipping to the last page and clicking his pen once.

"_Listen you_! You may not be _aware_ of this, but you are talkin' to the—finest—s-squadron—of—" Johnson was ready to chew Harvey out, when the creature unemotionally pulled out the rocket launcher that was leaning up against the back of the desk.

"……You wanna keep goin'? If ya do, we'll all go straight ta hell," Harvey said, resting it on his shoulder.

Johnson glared at the creature and put his hands in the air. The other Marines followed suite. Captain Keyes put his hands over his face.

"Fine……have it your way……we'll wait," Johnson hissed, backing away from the desk.

"Glad we see eye-ta-eye. There's a bench ova theya. I don't even know why you wanna _see_ the Commandas, they're not even _here_," Harvey said, indicating to the far left of the room. Indeed, there were two benches. A very worn skull was sitting on one of them as well as a sign in which "Please Wait For Patiently" had been scribbled over "Caution! Wet Floor!" The stick figure slipping also had been tampered with and had a speech bubble that said "I love my Commanders!" and white double S's on his arm.

"By tha way, my name's Harvey if ya wanna fill out an 'Extra Mile Award' slip. They're an my desk. There's also a comments an' questions bax by the lift."

"Whoa, Bizzle, come check these out!" Mendoza said to Bisenti, turning a metal rack of postcards around. All of which had lovely photos of Halo landscapes, fascist propaganda, hand-drawn racial art, and dramatic photos of high and low-ranking officers, complete with captions like "Wish You Were Here!" or "Greetings From Halo!" They even stooped so low as to put "Just Wanted to Say 'Hey-Lo!" Harvey spoke again as two other Marines looked over Mendoza's shoulder.

"Those were taken by one of ah Lieutenants. There's a bio about 'im an tha tap. My favarit is tha Schützstaff-eln one. Not tha serious one, but tha funny one. Should be on tha otha side."

Jenkins carefully removed it and tried to stifle his laughter as he looked at it. All of the members were wearing black uniforms and were in a variety of comical poses, performing intricate gestures or gang signs, and demonstrating many other cliché and adolescent ways of messing up what could have been a nice company photo.

"Marines! Gitcher asses back here!" Johnson growled. The leathernecks cowered slightly and took their seats. The Sergeant waited until Harvey had picked up his paper again, then he leaned over the Captain and whispered to his men.

"All right……as soon as we lull him into a false sense a' security, we gonna make a mad dash for the lift and get inside, okay?"

"But he said to wait," Mendoza answered.

"For a week?! We ain't gotta week! We only gotta few hours! We gotta do this _now_! What's _wrong_ with you, boy?!"

"I'm a soldier, Sarge, I take orders."

"Not from limp-necked, Nazi-lovin', jellyfish suckin', pansy-assed, Storm Troopers ya don't!" Johnson spat.

"……My name is Captain Keyes and _he's right_……we _should_ wait. My name is Captain Keyes and we don't want to make him angry, he might have a buff cousin or something who's just waiting to beat us up."

Johnson let his head hang. "Sir……with the utmost respect……you need to get that combat concussion checked."

Riley 'Bodensee, Hanjk, and "KibblesnTankShrapnel" were locked in an intense game of "Go Fish!" in the containment cell.

"Hanjk, do you have any…… eights?" Riley asked slyly.

"Um……wait, wot's an eight look loike agin?" he asked.

"Oh, Hanjk," Riley said, accompanied by some machine-gun laughter as he tapped his cigarette over the floor outside of the cell. They all looked to the doorway when they heard commotion and voices. All three Covenant stood up to try and get a better look. Everyone else in the area did so as well.

"No! No! NO! What are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!" they heard someone cry out.

"'Ey look! Riley ain't gonna be da fresh meat anymo!" "Kibbles" said.

"That was fahst," Hanjk added. The Covenant immediately lost their confidence as they caught a glimpse of _what_ the humans were bringing in. Everyone stood away from the cell doors as two Marines dragged an ex-Elite combat Flood into the area. To everyone in the first cell on the right, there was mass panic as one Marine opened the barred door. They tossed the Flood inside and quickly locked it. High-fiving and sniggering, the humans left the area. The Flood slowly turned the three Covenant who were backed up against the farthest corner.

"……Um……hi?" he said nervously.

"Kibbles", Riley, and Hanjk all screamed at the same time.

"No, no, no, wait! I'm not—it's—relax!"

All three warriors ceased any noise.

"……Okay. Boy, whatever happened to 'hello'?" the Flood said.

"'Ay dawg 'ay, 'ay dawg 'ay, we don't want no trouble! You jus' stay over there, 'n we stay over here!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said, clutching Riley and Hanjk.

"Oh, I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I'm off duty."

No reaction from the others.

"Look, I wouldn't do anything anyway. My name's Patrick. But, everyone else calls me 'Big Pat'. I don't know why, but the name sort of stuck."

"Ya-ya not goin' ta do nothin'?" Hanjk asked.

"Well, seeing as you used a double negative……" Big Pat said, sounding thoughtful.

"……Ya sure?" Hanjk continued.

"Yes, I'm really, really, really, really, really, really sure," Big Pat answered.

"He said 'really' six times, I think he's sure," Riley concluded. He squirmed out of "Kibbles" grip, and approached the Flood. He cautiously held out a hand. "……My name's Riley, Riley 'Bodensee."

Big Pat looked at him for a second, made a delighted squeal, and grabbed him in a massive hug.

"……Aw! Who could deny this?!" Riley said to his new POWMIA friends. He concluded with some machine-gun laughter. Pat put him down a second later. "Patrick……I think this is the start of a wonderful relationship," Riley said with a nod and some more laughter.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX? **

**Commander Ivan Log: Day 992 since acquirement of host body. September 20, 2552. Currently aboard U-boat en route to enemy cruiser **_**Truth and Reconciliation**_**. Note: Staff Sergeant Mendicci has **_**the biggest**_** boner. **

With the new installments of the Covenant and human armadas, the Flood gained many new bodies and with that, many new soldiers. New recruits to aide in the Flood's "Great Deluge" had already fronted the raid on the _Truth and Reconciliation_. The influx of combat forms allowed the Commanders to successfully keep an outpost at their base, leaving the rest to assist with the raid. With the help of their burly SS officers, the Commanders were able to pilfer other Covenant dropships, along with their cluster of Pelicans, and were en route to the massive cruiser. The cockpit was crammed with black-coated bodyguards as the two tyrants sat patiently in the back. Jared looked over at Ivan, whose head was tilted arrogantly as he kept his eyes focused forward. He was sitting two soldiers away with his arms around both Captain Anderson and Ringsmarschal Hindenburg. Jared was sitting between Officers 'Magee and Kristallnacht. Commander Ivan had both of his jackboots resting on one of Officer Nuremberg's shoulders as he sat on the floor in front of him.

"Ivan," Jared said, trying to get his attention above the clicking of magazines and miscellaneous Flood noises.

"Yes, my dear Jared?" Ivan answered as Anderson and Hindenburg acknowledged him as well.

"How mrany sroldiers are in each crompratment?"

"As many as we could fit. Other Field Marshals have confirmed that more U-boats have been captured and will meet us at the ship," he assured. Ivan stared ahead once more, a slight chuckle accompanying his assuring tone. "And so gathers the storm that brings the Flood."

The voyage from the base was long and uneventful. This was a good sign. The Covenant was unaware of the Flood's intelligence and the oncoming threat they posed.

"Commanders! We have the enemy ship in sight!" the pilot said over his shoulder.

"Excellent," Ivan said, rising and taking up his trusted S2 AM. He held it firmly by the long muzzle. The SS officers took up their weapons as well. Brandishing mostly shotguns, assault rifles, plasma rifles, and Needlers, they were ready to do their leader's bidding and murder any alien who wasn't Flood. Ivan took a moment to view the cockpit loaded with obedient soldiers, then shouted and raised his left arm. The SS replicated his actions. Having been satisfied he had the cockpit's undivided attention, he began to pace up and down the same aisle way between the ranks.

"We are nearing the enemy ship, men, nearing our only way off of this circular dungeon and nearing the gateway to domination and revenge. We shall storm their cruiser, infiltrate their safe haven, and destroy those Covenant rats. Their heathen 'gods' trapped us in these prisons and the sons shall now pay for their father's sins!"

The SS growled and hissed in agreement. They knew that nothing could go wrong in this mission. Their numbers were growing substantially, the Covenant were unsuspecting, and their own leaders were powerful and out for blood.

"Beginning descent!" the pilot called out, lowering the dropship.

"For honour!" Ivan screamed.

"For honour!" the SS answered.

"For race!"

"For race!"

"Sieg Flood!" Ivan shouted, saluting.

The SS answered their master and brought up their weapons as the pilot opened the door and they all raced out, making sure to cover their leaders at all time. More than two dozen Flood soldiers pounded down the ship's ramps and up the small hill to the grav lift. They all stepped onto the pad and waited to be pulled into the ship. The enemy was home……and about to receive a visit from highly unwanted company.

Upon entrance to the ship, the SS and the Commanders took notice of the fact that many Flood forms had already staged a successful infiltration. Covenant equipment was smashed, conduits and walls were cracked and broken, Covenant bodies were stacked in corners like firewood, and a macabre painting in blue and purple blood covered the walls and floor. The sounds of rifle fire, gruff shouts from Flood soldiers, and the screams of Grunts could be heard nearby. Ivan noticed two doors which had been broken open, one on either side of the room.

"Squadron A and B, diverge and go through either door. The SS will stay with us," Commander Ivan ordered as the group of lower-ranking Storm Troopers from another dropship saluted and headed in their designated directions. The bodyguards stayed painfully close to the Commanders. "Jared, your host body was of Covenant origin. Would you mind showing us the fastest possible route to the command center?"

"I wrill drew my brest," Jared said, cocking his shotgun. The team headed through tall blast doors, past small infernos and sparking panels. "Crovenant warshrifs generally place their crommand centrers in the centrer of the hull. A rather stratregic grambit, unlike many humran warshrifs," Jared commented as they passed a group of combat forms who saluted in response to their leader's entrance.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Ivan retorted, a jolt of human supremacy from his host's mind making an unexpected appearance.

"……_Nothring_," Jared said, taken aback by the sudden remark. He returned his gaze forward once more. Ivan moved closer to the robust Ringsmarschal Hindenburg.

After climbing over a decimated Wraith tank, the Commanders arrived at another hanger, this one more chaotic than the last. It was already occupied be several Flood forms. A group of combat forms were piling bodies in the corners of the room, carelessly and disrespectfully flinging them into heaps. A few others were taking the liberty to torture or otherwise violate various Elites and Grunts. More combat forms were idling around, laughing and making cheerful badinage, as if they were attending a party.

"Commanders! Heil!" a Field Marshal announced, standing erectly and raising his arm.

"How are things coming, Field Marshal?" Ivan asked smoothly.

The Field Marshal chuckled as he turned his attention briefly to another high-ranking officer who was ordering an Elite to remove his armour loudly and harshly. "Oh, they're comin', all right."

"How much of the ship have our troops managed to take?" Ivan inquired.

"Our soldiers are still in the process of overcoming the entire vessel. My estimate is that _we_ have taken nearly a quarter, by I'd say that the Ivan Youth are present everywhere in the ship," the Field Marshal reported.

"Excellent. Keep up the good work," Ivan said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll have this cruiser in no time," the Commander continued, sliding his hand down to the officer's chest and gently stroking one of the infection form's tendrils that sprouted near his neck.

"Uh……_yeah_," he answered, removing his commanding officer's hand, saluting cautiously, and hurrying away.

"……Shall we carry on?" Jared asked of his fellow Commander as he brought his shotgun back to firing position and pointed towards a door at the center of the farthest wall. No sooner had he made the suggestion, it slid open and several black-armoured Special Operative Elites charged inside. Every Flood soldier within the room immediately responded to the intrusion and took up arms.

"Cover the Commanders! Make mincemeat of these snarling rats!" Hindenburg shouted as the SS formed a phalanx around the tyrants. Ivan dropped to one knee as he pulled his S2 AM from over his shoulder. Searching for a gap between bodies, he focused on the Elites as they fanned out, trying to find cover behind smashed Wraiths and scorched cargo modules. Many were covered in combat and infection forms alike within seconds.

In a war cloud of rage, Ringsmarschal Hindenburg threw down his assault weapon, let out a bloodcurdling yell, and charged at an Elite who was on the recoil as he slashed through a disfigured soldier with an energy blade, spraying the area with slime-like blood. The tall alien was taken off guard as he was tackled by the frenzied monster attempting to disarm him. Hindenburg aimed a tentacled punch directly at his head. Dazed from the sudden flogging, the Elite stumbled and dropped his sword. The Flood soldier saw his opening and quickly wrapped both of his vice-like hands around the Elite's long neck. Lifting the alien off of the ground a good two feet, he began his attempt at tearing the other warrior's throat open.

"_Now_ do you know who the master race is?!" Hindenburg growled, exerting all of his strength on the Elite.

"You _will not_ defeat the Covenant, abomination!" the Elite choked. Unbeknownst to the Ringsmarschal, the last surviving Elite hobbled over to the Flood and his suffocating comrade, held up his sword, and made a lunge at Hindenburg……right before a 14.5mm bullet pierced its way through the side of his skull. The KIA toppled over face-first into Hindenburg's shoulder just as he managed to rip the other Elite's throat apart. Purple blood flowed down the warrior's chest as the Ringsmarschal craned his strained neck around to see where the shot had originated. Ivan was chuckling as he rose to his feet and reloaded his Sniper Rifle. Hindenburg tossed the corpse away, using only one hand. Slinging his rifle, Ivan casually flicked his lit cigarette and approached the prone Elite. The other Flood soldiers watched their leader with caution and puzzlement. Ivan then squatted next to the dead alien. Letting the fragrant smoke from his homemade Halo cigarette filter out through the hollow, torn muscles of his neck, he placed the cigarette back in his mouth, letting it hang limply from his lip. He inspected the fatal wound he had caused in the sinewy warrior. The bullet had entered the side of his skull, punched its way through the hard cranium, and protruded mere centimeters from the Elite's left eye. The pupils that were usually dilated until no corneas shown had been constricted to the thickness of a pin, his firm hands still curled into claws, one grasping the blade.

Holding the alien soldier's caved head in his hands, Ivan laughed with a subtle, demonic tone. It started out quietly, but rose to a sinister cackle that could only be conjured up by the most evil of villains.

"_That's_ penetration at it's finest……" he said, taking a final drag on the cigarette, and smudging it out in the Elite's right eye. It made a slight hissing sound. A few ex-human SS soldiers giggled at this.

"Oh my God, Commander, you're like, Robin Hood, but with a Sniper Rifle!" Officer Nuremberg said.

"They don't call me 'Commander' for nothing," Ivan answered, pinching one of the boyish Flood's cheeks as he passed. "And with that……yes, Jared, we _shall_ carry on," Commander Ivan said, holding an arm out to the other Commander, indicating _he_ lead the way.

"Six lost in that battle," an SS guard reported as he bent over a mutilated Flood corpse. "One SS."

"Noted. Thank you," Ivan said as he nodded off the officer. "Excellent display of devotion and courage, Hindenburg. As you know, I pay extra for that," he said seductively, taking a precious second to stroke one of his second-in-command's biceps before moving out with the rest of the squad. Hindenburg chuckled as he gathered up his discarded rifle.

"_Show off_……" Captain Anderson sneered to Hindenburg quietly as he reloaded his own assault rifle and obediently followed his leaders.

The rest of the voyage to the command center went without trouble, the SS making minor trips on the side to crush the heads of frightened Jackals under the heels of their tall, shiny jackboots.

"You shrould be aware……the Shrif Marsters of Crovernant vressels trend trew bree Heels, Zealot Heels. Ones who wear grolden armour and bare exterordrinary amrounts of krills on the brattlefeld," Jared explained stoically to Ivan. "Heel" is one of the many racial slurs against Elites.

"It shouldn't be anything that we can't handle," Ivan said, readying his Sniper Rifle once more. "Let them try to force us down again. Prepare yourselves, men……we don't know how many of them there will be," Ivan instructed of their guards. "On the count of three……one……two……_three_!"

The Flood charged through the door, storming the _Truth and Reconciliation's_ command center. With angry hisses and growls from the SS, the guards surrounded their commanders and waited for a hefty counterattack from the enemy.

It never came.

They waited a whole six minutes before lowering their weapons and presenting each other with confused stares.

"……Commanders?" a bewildered guard asked, turning their way.

"Where are they? You said this place would be loaded with the bastards," Ivan said.

"……I dron't like this," Jared remarked, keeping his shotgun at the ready and surveying the area.

"Perhaps they are hiding, _cowards_," Officer Kristallnacht spat.

"_Maybe_ they went on a coffee break," Officer Nuremberg suggested.

"Look!" they heard another soldier say. All of the Floods turned towards the other side of the room as an SS trooper yanked a whimpering Grunt from behind an alien support pillar. "See how it cowers!"

Ivan slung his Sniper Rifle and approached the officer and alien. Looking up into the distorted faces of several imposing and infested soldiers, the diminutive Grunt's only defense was to cover his head and shudder uncontrollably. The SS chuckled and conversed evilly as they all suggested ideas of what to do with the small, feeble enemy. Ignoring the other's requests, Ivan seized the Grunt by the throat and hoisted it in the air at his eye level.

"Tiny, little Covie……aren't you happy to see us?" Ivan asked gently, a wide grin spread across his ravened face.

The Grunt was too petrified to answer. Ivan's expression quickly faded from charming to frustrated.

"You _will_ tell me where the others are. I _know_ there are more of you filthy _maggots_. Hiding out in the corridors of this ship like rats in a grime-encrusted sewer pipe!" Ivan spat out his words harshly as he brought the enemy closer to his face, occasionally moistening the Grunt's face with saliva. He closed his eyes, silently praying that the monster leave him alone.

Beneath the rifts that bordered the command console, the command crew of the _Truth and Reconciliation_ hid from the Flood. Upon hearing of the first parasite sighting, Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee gathered up his entire stash of cocaine and hid in the mantainence corridors beneath the metal floors. He also gathered up essential members of the command staff too. Nervously chewing at his claws, the Ship Master couldn't recall the last time he had felt frightened……_this_ frightened.

"Ship Master? What do we—" Bako 'Ikaporamee attempted to ask, but 'Fulsamee grabbed all of the assistant's jaws and held them fast.

"Are you an imbecile?! Do you _want_ them to find us?! _Keep quiet_!" he ordered significantly louder than the other Elite. Listening in on the monologue outside the corridor, 'Fulsamee heard the same voice snap, "what was that?!" Blanching and pressing 'Ikaporamee's head closer to the side of his chest, he gripped the assistant's jaws tightly and shut his eyes, silently praying that the monsters leave them alone.

"Wort?" Jared demanded.

"……I heard something. It sounded like a voice and it sounded close," he said, carefully looking around the room. Ivan whipped his head back to the Covenant foot soldier and held him closer once more.

"Where are the others?!" he demanded. "They're in this room……aren't they?!"

"……P-Please!" the alien managed to squeak. "T-There are n-no c-c-command s-staff here."

"……You're lying through your teeth, you gutless vermin!" Commander Ivan sneered, jerking the Grunt roughly once. Realizing that using his standard harshness on the enemy wasn't helping, he softened up a bit and employed a more friendly attitude.

"Look, Covie, tell you what. We'll let you go and make sure no more of these monsters scare you if you tell me where the other aliens are," he said, his voice almost sounding soothing. "Does this sound like a good deal to you?" he inquired further, with the air of someone talking to a young child.

"P-P-Promise?"

"You have my word."

The Grunt looked around the chamber, wondering what would become of the Ship Master and all of the high-ranking officers who were in hiding. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Grunt looked into the Flood Commander's eyes.

"See the depressions over there?"

"……Yes."

"……There's a panel that activates them on that platform. Most of the crew is in there. The others are through the doors on the wall there. They're all locked. You'll need to use another panel up there, too."

Ivan turned and looked above him where the control platform sat. Looking into the Grunt's eyes again, he grinned and chuckled.

"Why, thank you so very much. You've been a great help."

"……So, you're going t-to let me g-go now, right?"

"Fair enough. A deal's a deal," Ivan shrugged as he put the alien down. Just as the Grunt was about to sidestep and bolt away from the Flood squad, Ivan gasped lightly and pulled his left arm out from behind his back.

"Well, would you look at that? I had my fingers crossed," he said with a grin as he produced an M6D pistol from the inside of his uniform. He cocked it and shot the Grunt point blank between the eyes with blitzkrieg speed. The small alien left a bright blue streak down the wall as its prone body slid to rest on the floor in a slumped position. The SS officers laughed as Ivan holstered the weapon inside his coat and took up his trusted S2 AM. Half-fastened overcoat billowing behind him, he hurried up the ramp to the platform and began a spree of button-mashing on a small separate panel to the right.

"Do not kill any of the soldiers! I want the Covenant swine live!" Ivan ordered.

In no time, the doors to the storage spaces and the doors on the side of the wall opened and frightened Covenant troops scurried everywhere as the Flood flogged soldiers with tentacles.

"When you find the Ship Master, bring him to _me_! He's _mine_! I want him _alive_!" Ivan screamed.

"I've got him, Commander!" an ex-Elite SS guard hollered as he and another soldier dragged a frightened, thrashing Orna 'Fulsamee out of the brig. The rest of the troops took no hesitance in capturing the other troops, bounding their hands behind their backs and shoving them up against a wall. Captain Anderson spat in a high-ranking Elite's face and yelled Sangheili racial slurs. 'Fulsamee was hauled up the platform, wrists bound together by the SS, and kicked squarely in front of the Commanders. Jared placed a large boot on top of his neck and held him in place. Ivan squatted down next to the Elite, holding his Sniper Rifle by its long barrel.

"Well, well, well……good afternoon, Ship Master, wasn't it?" he said smoothly. "How are you doing? Having as much fun as _I_ am, I hope." The SS again laughed as they high-fived and playfully punched each other's shoulders. "Thought you could hide out in that brig, did you? Hm? Hiding from us, were you? Hiding from the Flood? Of course……how could I blame you?" Ivan chuckled nefariously, his lips curling over his crooked teeth. 'Fulsamee refused to look the leader of the abominations in the face, closing his eyes and burying his head into the metal floor of the platform.

"I do so hope you're willing to cooperate, if you're not—" Ivan turned and nodded to Ringsmarschal Hindenburg. He laughed maniacally, took up an M6D, and shot the first Grunt in the head. The other soldiers were lined up by race and height, Grunts to Elites.

"—Then another one of the Forerunner's children can join them in hell," Ivan chuckled. "Jared?"

"Yes, Ivan?"

"What's next on our itinerary?" Ivan questioned.

"Hm……we should send a few Feld Mrashals to search the rest of the shrif," Jared suggested.

"Excellent idea. Kristallnacht! 'Magee! Search the interior, recover any new soldiers, find ammunition, and any other things you can think of because I don't feel like naming them right now. Take Officer Nuremberg with you."

"Ugh! Do we have to take—"

"—Yes! You have to take Nuremberg with you, dammit!" Ivan flared. Groaning to themselves, the irate officers filed out of the command center slowly. "Oh, and……if any one of you _dies_, I'm stripping you of your ranks and medals."

"O-M-F-G! Now we can _really _have ladytimes _all together_!" Nuremberg said loudly with an overload of giddiness as the others looked confused by the threat.

Jared was about to speak, when a gunshot cut him off. Both Commanders turned in the direction of the sound. Hindenburg's barrel was smoking.

"Sorry, sirs……that chicken was talkin'," he answered, gesturing to the dead Jackal.

Jared turned his attention back to Ivan. "What are we growing trew drew with the Shrif Marster?"

Ivan stood up and handed his weapon to a nearby SS guard who gratefully took it. Ivan gestured to the two ex-Elites, who then dragged 'Fulsamee up off of the ground and slammed his torso and head down on a control panel, the bright lights emitting from the panel stinging the Ship Master's eyes. Ivan slowly removed his coat, which he also handed to a guard, removed his brown Commander's tunic, and unbuckled his belt. The ex-human SS in the area got extremely excited.

"I know _exactly_ what we're going to do with him……" Ivan said with demonic seduction.

Another gunshot was heard.

"_That_ one was because I _felt_ like it!" Hindenburg laughed, reloading his pistol as another Grunt fell.

"You're so _evil_, Hindenburg," Ivan said sensually. The Ringsmarschal cocked his pistol and winked at the Commander.

"Oh Grod……Ivan! I _knew_ you'd drew this!" Jared commented loudly.

"All right, wise guy, let's see _you_ think up a way to humiliate a Sangheili Ship Master! Go on, don't hesitate, besides……_your_ host body _was_ apart of their filthy race once!" Ivan argued, zipping up his breeches and rearing on the other Commander.

"I—um……well, they drew……um……damn, you're act-chually right. Violashrun _would_ bree the mrost humiliatting thing you crould drew trew a Srangheili. My aprologees, Ivan," Jared confessed. Upon hearing this, 'Fulsamee's eyes widened and he began whimpering.

"_Thank_ you," Ivan said with an enthusiastic nod as he turned around again and unzipped his pants. "Why don't I show you how a human does it? Hm? Doesn't that sound like a fun idea?" Ivan said, stroking the Elite's long neck. 'Fulsamee let tears stream from his eyes as his armour was stripped off piece by piece by the ravened human.

"Um, Ivan?"

"Ugh, what _now_, Jared?!"

"……Where's Prapa Flood?"

Ivan looked thoughtfully confused for a moment. "……But……I thought _you_ had him."

"_No_……_you_ sraid that such a raspronsibrility was only true bree taken core of by someone of _your _crayperabrilitree," Jared retorted.

"_That_ was a good one," one SS guard whispered to another.

"Did _I _say that?" Ivan asked.

"Mhm."

"Well……this is just great! Here, send-send a few of your Field Marshals or some SS members to go get him!" Ivan said, making a shooing gesture as he turned back to the Elite and pulled down his pants.

Jared shook his head and sent the order to two of his Field Marshals. The Ringmarschal kicked another Grunt who was weeping over his fallen comrade harshly in the ribs, hollering in his face as he keeled over.

"_Mayday_!_ Mayday_! _Christmas day_!_ Arbour Day_! _Columbus Day_!_ Bravo 22 taking enemy fire_! _Repeat_,_ we are taking enemy fire and are loosing altitude_!" the dropship pilot's voice was harsh and grating—the sound of a man about to go craaaaaazy.

"_Understood_," Cortana said, "_we're on our way_."

"_That's it_? _That's_ what you say to a ship of Marines who are about to die? You just say 'understood'?" the Master Chief inquired.

"Why? What do you _want _me to say? 'Wait for me, Elizabeth'?"

He realized his question _was_ pretty stupid, but somehow, he felt that Cortana's outgoing was a little dry.

While wrapped up in his discussion with Cortana, he had made a fatal error. Passing through the room full of cargo modules, he assumed that it was _still_ clear. Fortunately, an Elite-camouflaged with active Covenant gear announced his presence with a battle cry. Plasma fire seared around him as it flew from straight ahead.

"You mow-ron! What are you doing?!" he heard another deep voice ask. "No, see, he is scared now!" the first Elite said.

"No, he is not."

"I frink yer bolth idjeots 'n yer gunna lettim excape," he heard _yet another_ voice.

"Oh, will you _shut up_?!"

"Yeah! Take your speech impediment and leave, Sir Grammarnot!"

"Ahm sick 'n tored of bean oppress-sid by yous all!"

The Master Chief's head started to spin. The room was filled with arguing Elites and he had no idea where anything was coming from. He fired a sustained burst and was rewarded by an alien scream of pain. He fired around the same spot and the other aliens flickered into view as they fell, streaking the floor with purple blood. He made a mad dash for the ramp to the surface, reloading and reflecting on how foolish the act was. Running into a room without checking for a clear coast……for shame.

The Spartan made his way upward and out into the bright sunlight. He paused on the platform and dropped his attention to the beach below. He saw the smoldering wreckage from Bravo 22 as Covenant troops patrolled the sands. Only a mix of Jackals and Grunts. He pulled out "Stalingrad", used the 2X scope, and started makeshift sniping the lesser aliens. He nailed the two Jackals and killed the trio of Grunts who were standing on top of the mesa and playing the jumping game that made them look like losers. He switched back to "Valerie" and took off down the slope to the beach. It wasn't a very long walk to the wreckage and scattering of bodies. Although he wasn't particularly fond of the morbid task of scrounging ammo from dead soldiers, he knew what he had to do in order to protect himself.

"Don't forget to grab a rocket launcher," Cortana put in.

"Thanks, _mom_."

"I'd grab a Warthog too, if I were you."

Taking her advice, he grabbed the bumper of the capsized LRV and flipped it over with ease. Climbing aboard, he skidded off back to the LZ, where the Marines were still stationed at. He pondered on a name for his new weapon and went with "Bertha". _I wonder what ever happened to the first Warthog and the two Marines_, he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, the two Marines he had left at the Warthog back near the security complex were still wondering where the Chief was as well.

"……I wonder what ever happened to the Chief," the Devildog in the passenger seat thought aloud. He was sitting horizontally in his seat, letting his legs dangle out over the door.

"……He-he doesn't _really_ think I'm an asshole, does he?" the gunner asked.

"Welcome back, Master Chief, sir," a particularly masculine female Corporal said as he skidded to a halt where the rest of the Marines were stationed. She took a place behind the three-barreled gun. The focal point of the Corporal was the tattoo of the words CUT HERE circling her neck.

"Wow, you're _so_ cool," he answered.

She glared at him and sat back in the seat. "It was getting boring without you, though, even if you _are_ a jackass."

A young Marine jumped up in the passenger seat. "Oh my God, oh my God! What are we doin'? Are we goin' for a ride? Are we? Are we?! Boy, I like goin' for rides! Gonna shoot some aliens! Wooo! Who-rah!" he said quickly.

"Uh, yeah. We're going to have the best time," he said, turning the Warthog in the direction he had just come from.

"This job gets _very_ stressful, Chief," the Corporal said quietly.

"Absolutely," he agreed.

They had been puttering about merrily when two Hunters, whose stories are of no importance, opened fire on the racing LRV that came into view. The Master Chief saw it on his peripheral vision and made the decision to turn towards the enemy both to give the other Marines an opportunity to fire. Unfortunately, the plan backfired and the energy pulse struck the side of the Warthog, tossing all of them out.

The Master Chief jumped back on his feet in time to see the Hunter drop from the platform above. "Make tha music with yer mouth, bis!" he called out to the humans.

Both of the Marines were also back on their feet, but since neither of them had seen a Hunter before, they weren't wise to the strategy of taking them down. The overzealous Corporal yelled to the Private. "C'mon, Hosky! Let's grill some bastard steaks! I smell a cookout!"

"What's she _talkin' _about?" he axed, turning to the Master Chief.

"I'm not fluent in Marinese," the Spartan answered. He looked back to the Corporal who had hollered for the Private to move up. "No! Fall back, you fruit!" he ordered as he bent over to retrieve his rocket launcher. The Corporal whipped a fragmentation grenade at the monster and stared in disbelief as it charged right through the smoke, seemingly unfazed.

"Who's ya P.I.M.P.?!" the Hunter cried as he lunged forward. He bitch-slapped Private Hosky, who was within striking distance, with his shield and sent the shattered human straight to the ground. "_I'm_ ya P.I.M.P.!" he said as he lifted one boot over the young Marine's head and brought it straight down on his face.

The Master Chief had just loaded the launcher and had it up on his shoulder, when the Corporal grabbed onto his shoulders and screamed at him.

"I'm gonna stop this thing, even if it kills me! Chief, make sure they play 'Stairway to Heaven' at the memorial when they mention me!" With that, she let go of the Spartan and charged into his line of fire, straight at the Hunter. Pouncing into the air, she landed on top of the massive alien and began beating the alien's small head senseless.

"Yo, what tha—oh no you di'int!" the Hunter said, flailing his arms in a feeble attempt to grab the human. Eventually, he managed to get a good grip on the human, swung her off and onto the ground as he proceeded to fire a small energy pulse at her torso. That created enough of a distraction for the Chief to use to his advantage. He took aim and pulled the trigger. A rocket streaked out of the barrel, headed straight for the alien, who just noticed it at the last second. He roared an obscenity as the rocket blew through his chest plate. Vibrant orange blood stained the ground around him as he collapsed.

The Master Chief took a second to reload and heard a howl of anguish from on top of the platform. "_Nigga_! I'mo _keel you_! Y'all don't even wanna _know_ who you messin' with!"

_Serves you right_, the Master Chief thought in retaliation. _You only lost one brother_,_ I lost all of mine_.

He recollected the ambush and felt completely guilty, thinking it was _his_ fault that the Marines were dead already, that he didn't give them enough information, and that he wasn't quick enough, and that he was the biggest loser on the beach.

"It's not your fault," Cortana assured. "Now be careful, there's _another_ Hunter on top of the platform."

"It seemed a little obvious," he answered solemnly.

He started up the small slope to the structure, making good use of the trees, downed logs, and cargo modules. Crouching under the cover of a fallen tree trunk, he inched his way to the cliff wall and behind a cargo module. The Hunter saw him, fired a burst from his fuel rod cannon, and missed. Using all his energy in that round, he wasn't able to recharge before the Master Chief took aim again and let another rocket fly.

The rocket managed to take off the Hunter's head, causing a small shower of worm-like organisms to rain around a four foot radius and spatter the alien metal with orange blood. He paused, switched to "Valerie", and took the moment of peace to write "PIG" on the entrance to the chamber using the rather large pool of blood circling the Hunter. He also wrote "John is cool". After taking a second to marvel at the cleverness of his work, he reentered the structure and walked through the same halls, all of which were still slicked with alien blood from his earlier appointment. He passed through the door which had slammed in his face the last visit and noticed the instigating Elite wasn't present. He wound down a curving ramp. The air was still and smelled like basement. He felt like he was making his way through the cellar in a grandparent's house.

He slid through a heavily shadowed tunnel and came upon a ramp. Heading down softly, he was taken aback as he noticed a crimson-armoured Elite standing behind a cargo module, his back turned to him. He was standing with his hands on his hips as he hummed "Amazing Grace". The Master Chief sneaked up behind him as quietly as he could and struck him a deal using the receiving end of "Valerie". The alien instantly toppled to the ground with a grunt. He noticed an archway without a door to his left and a door to his right as well as a ramp to a second level.

Deciding on the ramp, he quietly trudged up, peeking around the corner as he did so. One Grunt was asleep a few feet away and another was waddling around at the other end of the catwalk. Sneaking up on the unaware Grunt as he had with the Elite, he thrashed it with the butt of his rifle, caving the alien's skull in. The body had tumbled off of the catwalk and hit the ground below, startling the other Covenant in the area. They all opened fire at the same time.

_You couldn't go quietly_, he thought as he fired controlled bursts into the mob of Grunts and the other Elite.

"It's as if they knew we were on the way," Cortana said, puzzled. "Someone must have been tracking our progress and has a pretty good idea of where we're headed."

"We'd better make it before I run out of ammo," the Master Chief said.

"We're close," the AI assured him, "but be careful. There's bound to be _tons_ of enemies."

He took her advice to heart as he cautiously moved down the ramp on the other side of the room. The Spartan had to deal with a group of unruly Jackals before making it into the next chamber. He noticed that two Hunters were guarding a door on the farther reaches of the room. He slung "Valerie" and readied "Bertha". The rocket launcher was the ideal weapon for taking out Hunters, no questions asked.

Steadying himself just right, he aimed the barrel between the conversing tanks and let fly. The one to the left noticed it, roared in surprise, and managed to move out of the way just as his bond brotha turned to see it barreling down on his position. It was a dead-on hit, blowing the monster to shreds.

The Spartan hoped to get the other Hunter to save time, but it was too late, he had already slid behind a wall. Charging around the corner to where the human was, the giant alien roared and lowered a shoulder. The Chief grunted in pain as the topmost spike caught his arm underneath the suit's shoulder joint. _Of course_, _the only spot that isn't fool-proof_, he thought as he felt a tearing as the alien jerked the spike out. He dropped a grenade at the beast's feet and backed away quickly. Boom, flash, death.

Working his way to the door exceedingly carefully, he managed to leave the large room, and found himself in front of a long, slanting ramp. He backed into a corner, checked his motion sensor to confirm it was clear, and disengaged the shoulder plate of his MJOLNIR armour.

Being the beast that he was, he ignored the pain, but the blood loss would take its toll later if he didn't act soon. He cleaned and disinfected it neatly, sprayed some bio-foam into the wound, and dressed it with a "Power Rangers" themed war dressing, whoever _they_ were. He then reached for a shady looking bottle labeled "Malevolent Altoids", which was the medic's code for wake-up stimulants……_or was it_? After popping one for cause and one just _be_cause, he had suited up, continued down the ramp, and was ready to go.

Back at the makeshift containment area in Alpha Base……"KibblesnTankShrapnel" and Hanjk still sat in the corner of the cell, not wishing any contact with the new coming Flood prisoner. Riley, however, after the hug, promptly sat down with Patrick and started talking.

"So, what's your favourite kind of music?" Riley asked.

"Oh, well, I don't know. I don't really listen to music. Our commanding officers won't let us do _anything_ fun," Big Pat said angrily.

"You too, huh?" Riley said. "Yep. We're the same way."

"'Fulsamee and the Prophets will _always_ be bitches," Big Pat replied.

"Hey! You know about them?" Riley asked curiously.

"Yeah, it's a long story……but seeing as I'm a former Covenant soldier—"

"—So you, like, have some kind of mind power?" Riley inquired.

"Not really. I can just access memories and stuff from my host's brain."

"Oooh……sounds invigorating," Riley said.

"Nah, it doesn't itch."

Riley paused a moment in confusion, but the feeling quickly subsided. "……Hey! Wanna hear a joke?!"

"Oh Gods," Hanjk said, hanging his head in embarrassment.

"Shut up! Okay……why did the optometrist become a 'Good Humour' man?"

"……Uh……wait, don't tell me, I'll get it……wait……wait……okay tell me," Big Pat said.

"……He loved 'eyes' cream!" Riley delivered the terrible punchline with his signature laugh. After cracking up completely at his own joke, Riley wiped his eyes and waited for a response from his new friend. Pat didn't seem to be attempting to. Riley's smile faded. "……You didn't like it?" he asked mournfully.

"……Riley……THAT WAS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!" Big Pat fell over on his back with laughter. Riley's features lit up. This was probably the first crack up he had _ever_ heard with _any_ of his jokes.

"EYES CREAM! OH MY GOD! JOY!" Big Pat said through complete giddiness. Riley and Big Pat spent a few minutes in intense laughter at the terrible joke.

"Oh life……" Riley said.

"And I thought this was going to be scary," Big Pat added. He looked over to the back of the cell, at the other Covenant who wouldn't get near him. "You know, you guys can join us," he said.

"It's okay, govna," Hanjk said reluctantly.

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do," Big Pat said with a shrug.

The inmates all heard a group of Marines come down to the containment area. "Okay, ladies! Time to get to work!" one of them shouted as each Covenant soldier, including Big Pat, was dragged out of their cells, chained together, and lead to their designated work area.

"Uh, 'Kibbles'?"

"Yep?"

"W-Where are they taking us again?" Riley inquired.

"Aw dawg, we gon' work now!"

"What kinda work?" Big Pat asked from behind Riley.

"KibblesnTankShrapnel" was just about to respond, when he was roughly shoved by two ODST Marines.

"Less chatter more marching!" one said.

"Step off, niggaz!" "Kibbles" retorted.

The Covenant soldiers were led down a long tunnel until they came to a very grim scene. A large open area in the back of Alpha Base in which piles of human and Covenant corpses alike were scattered throughout the butte's surface. Some graves had already been dug out, but there was still a long way to go. They were lined up in front of Major Silva, who strictly barked the instructions to the new POW and reminded those who had already worked that day.

"You are to dig standard graves. Six feet deep by six feet wide, give or take the size of certain Covie bastards. No more, no less. If you're off by the slightest inch, you are to refill the hole and dig it again. Are there any questions?" Silva ordered.

Riley looked from his left to his right and then slowly raised his hand. Silva and the other ODST officers looked in his direction with much confusion. Riley waved his hand a little bit, trying to make sure he got their attention. Slowly, Silva approached him, his features set with a very pissed expression.

"……_You_ again, huh? The spastic one."

"That's me! Yeah um……where are the graham crackers and juice?"

Silva exchanged mortified and confused glances with another soldier. The other soldier merely shook his head and shrugged. Silva leaned closer to the Elite and looked up squarely into his eyes.

"You don't get any crackers and juice……you're in a damned detention center……prisoners of war don't _get_ special treatment!" he roared.

"……Ha, you're shorter than me," Riley teased with some annoying laughter.

"All right, have it your way. Since you're feeling lucky _and like acting like a smart_-_ass_, _you're_ going to have to work _twice as long _as your little _buddies_."

"Well, I don't know if I would call most of them 'buddies' sir……I'd use the term acquaintances."

"Get to work you Covenant son-of-a-bitch," he spat as he turned sharply and headed back into the base.

"Bye! I hope we get to talk again soon!" Riley said as he waved to Silva.

"_Get to work_!" a human soldier said shoving him over to a pile of shovels.

"Psh, you don't have to be so harsh about it," Riley said rolling his eyes.

"Fuck the po-leece, their gang control. Mind if I make love to you?" the Elite called "DuranDuran" said as he handed Riley a shovel.

"Um……" Riley said, sounding uneasy.

"……Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk?"

"……Oh, right! You talk in song lyrics! Okay, I get it now, I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing."

"See, my uncle told me when you're a prisoner of war, you get crackers and juice when you work, or maybe it was you _don't_ get crackers and juice……I don't remember. I'm _afraid_ of that Sang……oh, well, I just thought I'd ask to be sure," Riley shrugged.

"DuranDuran" chuckled heartily. "We're still screamin' at the Wailing Wall."

Riley clicked his mandibles and followed "DuranDuran" to an area that wasn't already being excavated. He started singing "We Be Burnin'" when he came to a patch of unturned dirt. Naturally, "DuranDuran" joined in units later. "Kibbles" instinctively knew the words by power of stereotype.

They all had gotten through the song twice before Hanjk threw his shovel down, dropped to his knees, and shielded his ears. "Sha' up! Sha' up! No more of tha song! It's eatin' intah me brain!"

"Why do you have to be such a burn-out, Hanjk?" Riley inquired.

"He be burnin', much concernen' what we bodies gonna say," a Grunt chimed in.

"In ye olde tyme it was _not a crime_!" "DuranDuran" defended angrily.

"Yeah! Ya don't have to be a punk-ass about it," "KibblesnTankShrapnel" added.

"All I'm tryin' ta ask, is that ya sing sommat different, a'kay?" Hanjk said.

"Why don't we sing something we _all_ know?" Riley suggested. "Hm……seeing as we're close to a mountain range, I think we should sing the goatherder song from the 'Sound of Music'! Oh, Julie Andrews, your drama and vocal skills are unmatched," Riley suggested.

"Everyone get up and let's go!" "DuranDuran" agreed.

"It's one of my favourites!" Riley added.

"Naw, pick somtin' different." "Kibbles" said.

"How about 'Go Tell it on the Mountain'?" Riley threw out there.

"Come on, come on!" 'DuranDuran' agreed.

"Mah Gammy used tah sing dat all da time," "Kibbles" said.

"Go tell it on the mountain, Jesus Christ is born," "DuranDuran" started for them as he kept digging. Soon, all the Covenant soldiers were singing except a Grunt called "Crankshaft" who was promptly hit in the back of the head with a shovel and buried alive……but more like buried unconscious.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I think we should get this here door open," he said from his seat on top of a peeved and exhausted looking Private Bisenti who was giving him a piggyback ride.

"I don't know, sir. It looks like the Covenant worked pretty hard to lock it down," Tech Specialist Kappus said as he pressed his ear to the heavy door. "Hey, I think I can hear voices from inside."

"My name is Captain Keyes, _just do it_, son."

"You're the boss," Kappus answered with a shrug. The Techie pulled a spoofer from his pack, attached it to the door and pressed a series of keys.

"Captain Keyes, sir……if I may, this is getting _really_ uncomfortable," Bisenti said as he could feel his hands and knees start to tremour.

"My name is Captain Keyes and you're doing just fine, son," he said as he spun an M6D in his hand.

The Marines held their position until Kappus gave them a thumbs up and the door opened. They all tried to get inside at the same time, but the men who would have gotten in first stopped in the doorway. Bisenti, who was holding Captain Keyes, immediately dropped him when he froze and saw what the other guys were looking at. There was a card table set up in the middle of the room, on top of a small platform that rose but a few feet off of the ground. There was a faint haze of cigarette smoke around the table as the Marines finally went with the idea that two Marines and an ODST soldier were sitting at it. However, that seemed anything but logical. Advancing a little forward to see more clearly, they all stopped in fear as they noticed that the Marines were ridiculously distorted. Their skin was a sickly yellow-brown colour, a tangle of tendrils sprouted from their chests, and looked as though their circulatory system had been turned inside out. The frightened group of Marines also noticed another of the creatures, one that was sitting atop one of the two foot pillars that stood on either entrance to the raised area. He was playing the "Dzien Dobry" polka on an accordion merrily. All of the Marines easily thought about Corporal Henri Polarski and his ability to play the accordion, which he did often to lift spirits and brighten days on whichever ship or camp he was stationed at.

"Ha! I'm all in!" the creature on the right said as he threw his cards on the table and reached for the pile of poker chips in the center of the table. The former ODST soldier quickly beat him to it.

"Not so fast, _you've_ got a flush, _I've_ got a straight," he said as the other guy looked downtrodden. The creature at the farthest end of the table started cracking up. The Marines all recognized the poker luck and cocky mannerisms of Private Oswald Smith.

"Straight beats almost everything," he said, looking over to the last Flood.

"Okay, look—" he answered, placing his cards down and giving his buddy a frustrated stare.

"I'm just messin' with you, Stan. I love you like a brother……or like a friendly uncle."

The losing creature shook his head as he handed Smith a plasma pistol, which he promptly turned down.

"No, no, gimme the glasses……there we go," he said as the loser handed the round frames over.

The Marines also remembered the round glasses and the nerdy nature of Tech Specialist Roy Welfare. They were still rather puzzled on the nature of the last former human.

"Your deal, Stanley," Smith said, tapping his cigarette over the floor.

"You've got some skill, Ron," the other creature said as he dealt.

"No skill, just luck," he answered.

"I don't know about either of you, but I've only got one thing left to bet and now I can barely see."

"That's not our problem, Don," Smith said innocently.

The Marines were confused as to why the former humans were calling each other by incorrect names, but most were bent only on figuring out _what the hell_ these creatures were.

"Where did you learn to play an instrument like that?" the unidentified Marine said as he turned to the former Polarski.

"Through the gift of stereotype and my severely Polish grandfather," he answered, ending the polka and taking a short cigarette break.

Something all clicked at the same time in the group of soldier's brains. The last creature was Private Michael Gallolawrence. The fact that he was ever so intrigued by Polarski's accordion playing gave him away. Gallolawrence had a soft spot for polkas, as _all_ people should.

"What's goin' on, Sarge?" Private Manuel Mendoza asked.

"I don't know, Mendoza! Don't you think if I knew I'd be tellin' all y'all?!" he spat softly, keeping his voice down.

"My name is Captain Keyes, what are we lookin' at?" he asked as he finally stood up from his previous place on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. All four of the distorted Marines looked up from their game at the new group of unchanged humans.

"Gasp!" Henri yelled sarcastically. The Marines raised their rifles and were ready to open fire.

"My name is Captain Keyes and I am _still_ confused," he said, throwing up his hands in a defeated manner.

"Would you look at that, the 'human strike team' finally arrived, for once," Stanley said, air quoting again.

"I can't see a thing, gimme my glasses back," the Roy creature said groping for them over the table.

The Oswald creature sighed, took them off of his head, and handed them back.

"……Gosh! They did!" Roy exclaimed, coming into focus.

"Um……what do we do?" the Michael creature asked his group.

"Shotguns are beautiful, Stanley," ex-Oswald said as he cocked the one that was leaning against a leg of the table, raised it, and shot the Marine farthest left in the head. The Marines charged in, firing assault rifles or whatever weaponry they carried like madmen. Captain Keyes ran around like a frightened little boy, screaming, "mynameisCaptainKeyes aaaaaahhhhhh!" The Marines managed to kill the creature that had once been the Techie first. The creature with the accordion managed to smash it, bellows first, over Kappus's head, knocking him out. He was rewarded with a shotgun blast from another soldier. It would have been a fatal blow, had he not rose to his feet a second later, laughing.

"Nice try," he chuckled, dowsing a Marine's lights with a tentacled fist. He met his maker when he was pistol whipped and killed by Sergeant Johnson. The former Oswald had his head filled with an MA5B's 7.62mm bullets and fell to the ground in a heap as foul green ichor spilled from his wounds. Only Sergeant Johnson and Corporal Lovik, aside from the hysterical Captain Keyes and the unconscious Private, had managed to survive the assault from the zombie-like Marines. Stanley had taken cover under the card table and was currently shielding the back of his neck with his hands. Johnson and Lovik flipped the table over and seized him.

"Ow, hey! What the fuck, guys?!" Stanley complained as his arms were tied behind his back. The last two Marines heard what sounded similar to a battering ram against one of the many doors into the room.

"Let's high tail it outta here," Johnson said as they hurriedly shoved the distorted soldier out of the room.

Captain Keyes stopped running around in hysterics when he realized he was the only thing moving and making noise in the room. "My name is Captain Keyes, hello? My name is Captain Keyes, guys? My name is Captain Keyes, _anyone_?" he called out. The only answer he received was the blasting open of a door and a rush of creatures similar to the ones his Marines had fought as they literally poured into the room, falling all over the place.

"Look! Humans!" he heard one in the front shout as he pointed in his direction, the mass of Flood shoving each other around to regain footing.

"My name is Captain Keyes……what?" he answered.

"C'mon, after them!" another creature answered. Almost immediately, the others in the room sprinted for the Captain and seized him. It took nanoseconds before he was pistol-whipped with a plasma rifle none too gently. Keyes, _surprisingly_ retaining half of his consciousness, remembered only being dragged up a series of corridors by the massive squad of creatures. He fully passed out just before being loaded into a stolen Covenant dropship, or U-boat as they referred to it, and shipped back to the Covenant cruiser the _Truth and Reconciliation_ to be debriefed and interrogated by Ivan, Jared, and Papa Flood……but it's more like just Ivan and Jared because all Papa Flood does is sit there and complain about the barometric pressure in the ship being too high.

Sergeant Johnson and Corporal Lovik, having found a period where they could stop for a much needed break from the Flood, hastily tied Stanley's wrists behind his back. The effort was almost unnecessary, seeing as the ex-Marine didn't even bother to put up a fight.

"Good. I like a prisoner who doesn't fight," Johnson said, giving the Bungie cord they used one last pull to secure the knot.

"……This feels like a relatively mediocre bond job. You should tighten it a little," Stanley had the nerve to say.

"_What_ are you talkin' about?" Johnson demanded.

"Let me simplify it for you……you didn't make it tight enough. Trust me, I would know. I've been tied up tighter than this on several occasions."

"Say _what_?"

"Yeah, I could probably escape if I wanted to," Stanley continued with a shrug.

"Show me……I _dare _you," Johnson said. Stanley rolled his eyes, forced his wrists apart, and the cord snapped off. Stanley's expression of disbelief didn't change as he stared at Johnson.

"Lovik, redo it. You know, you gotta lotta nerve for _whatever_ you are," Johnson said, drawing uncomfortably close to the Flood.

"Why you gotta be all up in mah grill, dawg?" Stanley chuckled comically.

"Why you—" Johnson growled, grabbing Stanley by the front of his Marine combat vest.

"Easy now, Avery, let's not get hasty. Go get yourself some soul food and have a seat."

"W-What? How do you—"

"—Oh, and, I'd suggest that you don't go through with whatever you had planned for me," Stanley suggested. "Just thought I'd throw that out there for you."

"Why not?" Johnson mocked. Stanley cleared his throat and nodded over the Sergeant's shoulder. Corporal Lovik, who had finished his job a moment ago, looked up and let out a quick yell. Johnson turned around and found himself facing a mob of angry Flood combat forms.

"……Oh shit," Johnson said slowly.

"Where do you think _you_ were off to in such a hurry, _human_?" the Field Marshal inquired, his arms folded over his chest as a group of armed combat forms flanked him. Johnson thought that the comment was mildly hypocritical, seeing as the beast still retained most of its human exterior.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, guys. I was really worried there for a second that they were—"

"—Shut up, Private Stanley! We're not _concerned_ with the hostage issue!" the Marshal barked.

"See what I have to go through every day?" Stanley asked of Corporal Lovik.

Johnson and Lovik were seized from behind by two ex-Elites.

"What are we gonna do with 'em, Field Marshal?!" someone in the back of the pack shouted.

"I say we kill 'em," the Field Marshal answered vilely.

"_Yeah_!" they all cheered.

"I say we quarter him with carriers and _then_ we kill him!" another soldier suggested.

"_Yeah_!"

"I saw we suck out his spinal fluids, quarter him, and _then_ kill him!" yet another Flood commented.

"_Yeah_!"

"I say we gouge out his eyes and piss in the sockets, tie him to a wall, shove a Sniper Rifle with a bayonet attachment up his ass, and _then_ we kill 'em!" an overzealous Private yelled. Everyone favoured him with looks of repulsion as they one by one rejected the offer.

"Uh……yeah, that's _not_ gonna happen."

"Jeez, man, that's disgusting!"

"Therapy, much?"

"Wait a second, wait a second! Don't we get some kinda last request?!" Johnson questioned.

All of the Flood soldiers exchanged glances once more. The Field Marshal shrugged and nodded. "Very well. We're all honest soldiers here."

Upon a nod from the Field Marshal, the two ex-Elites let go of Johnson and Lovik.

"……Okay. If I'm gonna do this up right, I'm gonna need some music," he explained.

"We need a ghettoblaster down here!" the Marshal hollered to the back of the team.

"I think you mean 'up in here'," a lower-ranking Flood said to his officer as a Private produced a ghettoblaster and placed it by Johnson.

"I oughta," the Marshal threatened through his teeth as he held up a hand. Johnson repositioned it next to a cargo module that was lying on its side and climbed on top of it. The Flood listened intently to a heated but soft argument the Sergeant had with the Corporal. After the diatribe, Johnson stood stock still on top of the cargo module and Lovik hit the "Play" button. Michael Jackson's "Beat It" began and Johnson launched into a colourful variety of poses during the intro, but still managed to keep a hardened Marine's face. Lovik remained still until the lyrics fired up, then he began pantomiming to Jackson's everlasting five-year-old-like vocals. Johnson had already begun performing a menagerie of magnificently choreographed dance moves, tearing up that cargo module and causing the Flood to watch in awe and wonder. Lovik did an impeccable job of lip-syncing Jackson and Johnson soon won over the crowd of hateful, parasitic soldiers. All of the Flood forms were dancing, solo or with each other, and others were standing around with smiles in no time.

When it came time for the guitar solo, Lovik whipped out the shotgun he was carrying and blasted out an eight-gauged solo that could've raise the dead and shattered the glass that surfaced Reach. Ending the solo with a power-slide, he stood back up and continued his pantomime.

Johnson lagged in his dancing for a moment to survey the area. All of the new enemies seemed to be too preoccupied with the music to notice anything outside of their own little worlds.

"Now! While they're still occupied! Let's make a break for it!" Johnson hissed to Lovik.

"Aw, c'mon, Sarge! The song's not over yet," he pleaded.

"_Now_, soldier!" Johnson barked, grabbing Lovik by his combat vest and making sure to abduct a lackadaisical Stanley as well.

None of the Flood soldiers even noticed they had gone until the song was over.

Now, many of the UNSC Corps had said this was only because he was black, seeing as he spent many hours practicing in his office and in Marine barracks……little did they know that _this_ moment was what he had been practicing for. Other soldiers would have been slaughtered instantly by the Flood……but not _Johnson_. Avery Junior Johnson had the right tools, the right condition, the right mindset to escape their claws and the terror that would've surely followed his capture.

Stanley Flood was violently hauled out of the structure serving as his home and to the surface. From there, he was pushed and prodded into a Pelican that was to be flown to Alpha Base.

"All right you……_thing_, what have you done with Private Michael Gallolawrence?!" Sergeant Johnson busily demanded.

"What are you talking abou—oh, yeah……you guys haven't found out yet, have you?" he asked cheekily.

The Sergeant and the Corporal exchanged confused glances.

"You guys never were too bright. Haven't you apprehended some more creatures that look like me?"

"……As a matter of fact, I think we did catch a thing that looks somewhat similar to you guys earlier," Johnson said.

"Was his name Patrick?"

"……I don't know, was it?" Johnson asked the Corporal, who shrugged in response.

"You did. I watched another team do it, Avery," Stanley said.

"Hey, you neva answered me. How the hell do ya know mah name?"

"All right, all right, the jig is up anyway. I _am_ Private Michael Anthony Gallolawrence, age twenty eight, enlisted in the UNSC Marine Corps for five years, expert in the field of telling sob stories about my childhood and loving Corporal Henri Polarski, who you just earlier had the honour of killing's, accordion skills," Stanley stated, matter-of-factly.

"Hey, we were right. Damn……you can't get any more thorough than _that_, Sarge," Lovik said.

"What _happened_ to you, Private?"

"I lost my personality, which was all I had left," Stanley said.

"Don't get cocky," Johnson said, reloading his assault rifle (his rifle's name is "Mrs. Jones", if you were curious). "And I'll assure you, the UNSC forces are hip to knowledge of the Flood."

"Okay sure, yeah, whatever," Stanley said in a mocking voice. He surveyed the small area in the Pelican, eyes coming to rest on Corporal Lovik. "Hey good lookin', what are you doin' all the way over there? Why don't you come sit over here?" he said with a chuckled loaded with mischief.

"What are you, _gay_?!" Johnson axed.

"Another gift given to me by the Flood."

"So……when those things eat you, you turn gay?" Lovik questioned.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm pretty sure the Flood would try to have sex with just about _anything_ you put in front of them, but don't quote me. I mean, they've really got no choice. All of the soldiers are guys. It works kind of like a prison around here. The big guys get to bully around the smaller guys. If you're not a beast, _you will_ be someone's bitch. Me, personally, I prefer the sexual company of male humans. I can't speak for the others, though."

"……I don't understand you fuckin' aliens," Johnson said as he shook his head and pulled out a flask from his utility belt.

"_Foehammer to Groooooound team_: _You've got twoooooo enemy dropships comin' in faaaaaast_!"

The Master Chief listened in on the allies' radio traffic as he stood at the side of a massive chasm. Just beyond it, he could make out the luminescent panels that Halo's creators had left behind. Below him, the huge abyss seemed to go on forever, like most of the random bottomless pits the creators left too.

"You know……I never did understand what all of these bottomless pits were for," he commented.

He recognized the second voice that came over the radio as Gunnery Sergeant Waller, the guy in charge of their LZ. "_Damn_……_okay people_,_ we got company coming_,_ let's set the table_._ Engage enemy forces on sight_," he drawled.

"_It'll be easier to engage them from inside the structure_. _Can you find a way in_?" Cortana suggested.

"_Negative_!" Waller replied. "_They're closing in too fast_,_ negative! We'll keep 'em busy as long as we can_!"

"_Give 'em hell_,_ Marine_," Cortana encouraged. "We'll _all_ be in a tight spot if we don't get out of here fast."

"Roger that," the Master Chief replied as he pressed on down another ramp, through a pair of hatches, and into the gloomy corridors within. He came out to a well lit footbridge, killed the pair of Grunts that were patrolling it, followed another ramp to the floor, and pitched a grenade at a group of enemies who ran into a short tunnel for protection. It bounced off of a wall, detonated, and he heard screams of pain. He hosed the rest of the area with bullets and hurried down to see what they had been guarding. He recognized the Map Room as soon as he laid eyes on it and had just entered when an Elite on the opposite side of him opened fire. He fired a burst with his assault weapon and smacked the butt of it into the side of the alien's head.

"There!" Cortana exclaimed. "That holo-panel should activate the map."

"And……how am I supposed to do that?" he inquired, giving the controls a through search.

"I'm an artificial intelligence, _not_ a miracle worker," she said.

"……I'm going to wing it," he said, putting a hand over his visor to keep him from looking as he swiveled his hand around the control panel. After a few seconds of this shenanigan, he jammed his finger down and was rewarded with a positive and deep click. There was an elaborate and astounding light show as all the parts of Halo seemed to join together, like missing pieces of a puzzle or Voltron.

"Analyzing," Cortana said. "Halo's control center is—" she paused for a second, "—_there_. Interesting……it seems to be some sort of temple or shrine. An odd place to put the controls."

"_Or_, _maybe_ it is _so_ odd……it is the oddest damned place……_that you never thought of_……" an Elite wearing cobalt armour said as he slowly rose up next to the Master Chief, seeming to materialize out of nowhere.

"Where did _you_ come from?!" he demanded, slightly startled.

The Elite grinned eerily at the Chief and raised a plasma rifle. "……Hi……I am going to shoot you now," he said.

The Master Chief gave the alien three quick bashes to the head with "Valerie". Several bolts of plasma shot straight up and singed the ceiling. The Master Chief took note of the fact that the alien's roar continued for a few seconds even after he was mentally pronounced dead.

"What the _hell_ is up with these aliens?" Cortana asked in an uninterested tone. She opened up a channel. "_Cortana to Captain Keyes_."

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Foehammer's voice. "_The Captain haaaaaas shut off his ray_-_deeeeee_-_oh and refuses to talk to anyone until we start calling him 'Raaaaaanger Kizzle_._' But don't axe me_,_ I don't get it either_."

"_Keep trying_," Cortana urged. "_Let me know when he's stopped acting like a baby_. _Anyway_,_ tell him that the Master Chief and I have determined the location of Halo's Control Center_."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVENTY ****(ha! Syke! It's seven)**

**Seventh Cycle, 50 Units (Covenant Battle Calendar: Officer Riley 'Bodensee)/**

**I've gone to find myself……be back whenever!**

"—And _that_ is how I got into the military," Riley concluded with his irritating laugh. Everyone was back in their cells now, finished with their grueling, dirty chores.

"Wow……that's pretty deep," Big Pat commented.

"Well, what are ya gonna do?" Riley answered. He was sitting propped up against "KibblesnTankShrapnel", who had fallen asleep a while ago and Big Pat was sitting up against a wall, facing Riley. He rested the heels of his booted feet up on the wall six inches from Pat's head. "How about you? Which warrior did you used to be, I'm drawing a blank."

"Guy by the name of Rurna 'Sortasee," Big Pat answered.

"Right! Now I can see it, sorta," Riley said. "Oh, life."

"Hey, Riley?" Big Pat started.

"Mhm?"

"Is it a custom to sleep with everyone in your cell when you're in jail or being held as a prisoner of war?"

"……You know, I don't really know for—"

"—Sure it is," they both heard someone say. The voice belonged to "Canundrum" who was in the cell opposite theirs. "If you're POWMIA, or in prison in general, chances are almost one hundred to one that you'll sleep with most, if not everyone, in your area," he explained.

"Wow. Have you ever been POWMIA before?" Riley asked.

"Nah, I just have a reputation of being easy. But……I stopped having relationships with anyone."

"Aw, how come?"

"Because……I don't really want to talk about it."

"You know what you need to do?" Riley said with a smile.

"What?" "Canundrum" inquired.

"……If your man wanna get buck wild, just go back and hit 'em up style," Riley said. "DuranDuran" finished the stanza. Riley flashed "Canundrum" a reassuring smile.

"Thanks, but it's way too late for that."

"Aw, cut my wrists and black my eyes?" "DuranDuran" said.

"Shut up……" "Canundrum" sneered.

"Will you tell us?" Riley begged.

"I don't wanna."

"Pleez?!"

"If he doesn't want to say anything, he doesn't have to," Big Pat said.

"Thank you, Pat, but it's okay. If you can't trust your jailmates, who can you trust?" "Canundrum" heaved a long sigh. "It's just……the last guy I was with cheated on me."

"Ouch," Riley said.

"Oh my God! I know just how you feel. My boyfriend is a complete and utter whore," Big Pat sympathized.

"You don't understand. I found out he was seeing _three other Sangheili _at the same time," "Canundrum" explained. "……Not including me."

"So? I'm pretty sure my partner has seen the _entire_ Library," Big Pat said disdainfully.

"It's really shaken up my trust for others. I don't talk to anyone anymore, much less trust them at all."

"I've noticed. You haven't really spoken at all since I've seen you."

"Canundrum" shrugged.

"……'Canundrum'?"

"Yes?"

"……Remind me to give you a really big hug tomorrow, okay?"

"Canundrum" smiled. "I sure will. Thanks."

"Hey, if you don't talk to anyone, how come you're talking to us? I mean, not that I don't like it, because I love talking, it's just—"

"—I don't know……you intrigue me," "Canundrum" answered.

"Really?" Riley inquired.

"Yeah, I like your personality and you're the only other Sang I've met that openly uses contractions, like me." He looked at the clock on the wall and yawned. "I've had a rough day, I'm gonna try and take a nap now," he said as he chose a spot on the floor and curled up. It was late in the afternoon, but everyone was so worn out from digging that morning that sleeping was the current event within the detention cells.

"Have a nice nap, 'Canundrum'!" Riley said.

"I'll try."

"He's a sweet guy, he really is. Quiet, but sweet," Riley chuckled.

"Yeah," Big Pat agreed. There was a moment of silence that was broken by Hanjk, who sat up with a start, though he was still asleep.

"Gotta light anotha candle……I love lit-el candles," he droned.

"Hop to it, Hanjk," Riley said after exchanging a quick glance with Pat.

"Yeah……gotta go……" he said, laying down again.

"So……do you have a partner or are you in a union or anything?" Big Pat asked, getting comfortable against the wall again.

Riley shook his head, an indifferent frown on his face.

"Oh, is that so?"

"……No one likes me. I don't even really have any _Sangheili_ friends. My relatives constantly give me trouble for having not found anyone yet."

"_.I_ like you. 'Canundrum' likes you, the other guys in here like you," Big Pat said, gesturing to the cell.

"I mean, out of the detention center," Riley corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry……do _you_ like anyone?"

"Well……there _is_ this _one_ Sangheili……"

"OoOoOoh, now wur gettin' warmer! What's his name, wait! Lemme guess! Um……is it the one Field Master who used to be a stripper?"

"Field Master Noga 'Putumee: Booty Call! Actually, no. I _used_ to like him, _in fact_……I used to only like Sangheili based on what armour they wore. I was all into gold-armoured Sangs, but I figured, you know, what's the point? It's totally cliché because they're high rank and all."

"That's true. But I gotta admit, I'd like to see what he's got. I wish he still worked at 'The Anal Probe'."

"Don't we all?"

"But seriously, who do you like?"

"……Zuka 'Zamamee."

"_Him_?!" Big Pat exclaimed. "Why Zuka? He's _soooooo_ blasé. He's such a conceited _jerk_."

"I know, but……we were both in the Covenant Imperial Marching Band and we both play saxophone and……I don't know. The first moment I realized I had an infatuation with him was this one night at the bar on the _Truth and Reconciliation_. It was the night he had gotten promoted to a Special Operatives Officer and he was partying with some friends and buying drinks for everyone. I will admit, we were all kinda trashed, but he did karaoke to this one song by Duran Duran called 'View to a Kill'……by the rings, it was _the sexiest_ thing I had _ever_ seen," Riley explained. "And aw man, he has the most _gorgeous_ body in the universe."

"Well, it's _okay_, I guess. 'Canundrum's' got the right idea. I'm gonna take a nap too," he said as he curled up next to Riley. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not really, go ahead."

"Okay, good. I'm just used to sleepin' double," Big Pat explained.

"No problem, bud," Riley said. Riley settled down as well, trying to get some sleep as he lay in the bowels of the human base.

He spent the next hour looking at the ceiling or at the other sleeping Covenant as he listened to "DuranDuran" softly singing a Sangheili folk song in their native tongue. It reminded him of his family and his birthplace on their own planet. Riley sighed deeply, wondering how his friends were, what would happen to him if he stayed in the human detention center longer, and what was going down on the ring-world outside. Eventually, all of his thoughts managed to lull him to sleep within the hour.

The Master Chief waited impatiently in the troop bay of Foehammer's Pelican. He had nothing better to do than stare directly across to the other side of the dropship, where a Marine had taped a pinup of some male model from "Cosmonaut Girl", the Russian teenage girl magazine of the future. The Marines had wrote "Lovell was here!" on his chest. He checked to make sure his weapons were loaded and wondered where the hell they were. The Pelicans didn't have windows in the troop bay so the Master Chief was forced to sit there and pout without being able to look at his surroundings. Based on the story from Cortana, Foehammer had dropped her Pelican through a hole in Halo's surface and her objective was to land on an enormous underground landing pad.

"_This is as faaaaaar as I can go_,_ Master Chief_._ Gooooood luck_!" Foehammer said as he thundered down the ramp and out into his new surroundings. The new area was vast and cavernous, causing even the slightest of blunders and sounds to echo. As the Pelican began to rise upward, he noticed that she had landed on three Grunts, crushing them instantaneously. He chuckled at the thought.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of mechanisms whirring and turned around. A crimson-armoured Elite had charged through the door and roared loudly. He was followed by a pack of Grunts and another one of his kind. The Chief spotted a nearby plasma turret and made a mad dash for it. Climbing into the stationary gun, he grabbed the firing studs and pressed them harshly. The Elite screamed as plasma scorched his body. The Grunts took off in every direction in a frenzied panic. They went down in less than fifteen seconds.

The Master Chief waited a few more minutes. His patience was not in vain, for another squadron of Grunts scampered onto the pad. He hosed the tall door with plasma fire and the Grunts all landed in a pile near in the doorway. He waited a few more minutes. No one else came. He climbed out of the gun, took up "Valerie", and headed through the door.

From there, the Spartan felt his way through countless passageways and rooms, many of which had been occupied by Covenant forces.

He made his way down a slightly longer corridor. He wondered what he'd be seeing next and put all of his money on a pair of Hunters.

Luckily enough for him, aside from not having money, there were no Hunters, but admitted brisk, cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. It appeared as if he was stepping out onto a long bridge. A barrier blocked his view but he could see traction beams in place of cables as well as the mighty gray cliff face beyond.

"The weather patterns here seem natural, not artificial," Cortana said, intrigued by this new phenomena. "I wonder if the ring's weather patterns are malfunctioning—or if the designers _wanted_ this particular part to have inclement weather."

"Maybe this wasn't inclement weather to them at all," the Master Chief said.

"Maybe _you_ should keep your trap shut," Cortana said sarcastically.

The Chief, deciding that he didn't give a damn about the kinds of weather whoever built this enjoyed, peered around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. It wasn't. It was guarded on either side by a plasma turret. However, the one to his left was unmanned. He noticed a Pelican swooping down from the sky and in for a landing to the right. The Grunt manning the right gun swiveled the barrel around and aimed it at the dropship.

There was a blip of static, followed by a grim-sounding male voice. "_This is Fire Team Zulu requesting immediate assistance from any UNSC forces_._ Does anyone copy_? _Over_."

The AI recognized the call of the wild, or in this case desperate Marines, and answered.

"_Cortana to Fire Team Zulu_, _we read you_._ Hold position_,_ we're on our way_."

"_Roger that_," the voice replied, "_make it quick_."

_Thanks everyone_,_ you ruined my element of surprise_, the Master Chief thought. The Grunt was still occupied with the Pelican, giving the Master Chief the perfect opportunity to yank him out his seat and throw him over the side of the bridge. He replaced the alien and swiveled the turret around to the bridge, ready for the oncoming attack.

He slammed this thumbs down on the studs and burned holes through a Grunt and a Jackal. He watched as the plasma bolts not only took the lives of the Covenant soldiers but they also took their toll on the bridge. Huge scald marks and missing chunks could be seen from almost every angle.

"You should be more careful of the surroundings," Cortana suggested. "Can't you feel its pain?" she questioned, referring to the bridge.

"……I feel no pain," the Spartan answered.

Wary of the fact that the Covenant could easily be hiding further down and that structural damage upset Cortana, he drenched the area as far as he could reach with a steady stream of energy, making as many scald marks as he could in order to defy the AI. He managed to slaughter a few more Jackals and Grunts. Satisfied with his work and figuring that he had gotten most of the enemy out of the way, he exited the turret and continued down the bridge. He dropped down to the lower level and took care of a group of Grunts and a crimson-armoured Elite.

He emerged to the upper level of the bridge at the opposite side, where he met a golden Elite with an energy blade.

"You will taste the wrath of the Zealot!" he said threateningly as he began to whirl the blade in an elaborate display of arcs in the air. He was actually looking pretty cool until the blade managed to fly over his shoulder as he accidentally lost grip on it. With steep embarrassment, he retrieved the blade and roared in anger at the Chief. After the human opened up fire, the Elite retreated behind a barrier.

The Chief saw no reason to tango with a pissed off Elite wielding an energy sword, so he lobbed a plasma grenade over the small wall. He heard a startled reaction from the Elite as he ran out from under his cover, tripped over a Grunt, and fell over the side of the bridge. _I bet that Elite thinks he's a total douche bag_, the Master Chief thought to himself as he looked over the side of the bridge and saw the patch of snow-covered ground in which it had rained alien.

Thankful to be finally off of the bridge, he passed through the tall doors and made his way through another maze-like, Covenant filled room. He had found a lift just after that. It dropped for a particularly long time before coming to a relatively smooth stop and allowing him to exit. The next room was like a slab of heaven being dragged by Lady Luck's cab down Easy Street. It was loaded with Grunts, all of which were sleeping, some delirious Jackals, and one Elite, all of which were silently and swiftly killed by the Spartan as he made his way through.

He came to another large door and as it opened, found that he was at the bottom of the snowy canyon where a battle between Fire Team Zulu and the Covenant was raging. Judging from the fact that most of the Covenant had their fire focused to his left, he assumed that Fire Team Zulu, or at least what was left of them, was trapped there. They were under siege by two Shades and a Ghost, but seemed to be putting up a good resistance.

Knowing right that second that the stationary guns posed the biggest threat, he emerged from the tunnel and shot the nearest Grunt in the head. As he tumbled out of the gunner's seat, he heaved himself up and set to work taking out as much of the alien soldiers as he could. The driver of a Ghost soon became interested in the fact that a Shade was taking out Covenant troops and went to investigate. He roared as the gun came into view and he saw the Master Chief aboard it. Both the Elite and the human opened fire on one another, almost at the same time. In the end, the Shade won out as the attack vehicle started smoking and proceeded to explode, propelling the driver a good thirty feet away.

The next big problem was the Wraith mortar tank that had been pretty dormant as it sat on a frozen lake. It began to lob comet-like energy bombs into the air as it inched closer towards the Marines. He tried to send a stream of energy towards the tank, but it was no use. It was too far out of reach and a cocky boulder and a couple of his tree buddies thought it would be funny if they stood directly in his potential line of fire.

The Shade, now rendering him a liability other than an asset like Dowski, he pulled out, taking up his assault weapon and sprinting to where the trapped Marines were. No sooner had he done so, an energy mortar landed square on the turret he was just inside.

The Marines saw him coming and took relief in his appearance at the scene. "The cavalry has arrived!" one soldier said.

"A cavalry is more than one person, you know," the Master Chief corrected. "And I'm not on a horse or vehicle, which would constitute a cavalry."

"We could sure use your help, Chief—that Shade has us pinned down," the Corporal said upon approach. The soldier pointed to where the gun was stationed on a large rock formation and needles to say, had control over pretty much the whole valley.

The Marines' Warthog had flipped over and spilled the supplies all over the joint. "Sheesh, you guys are messy," he said as he picked up a rocket launcher. A new team of Grunts made a run at the group of Marines but were beaten stupid by the Master Chief. Seeing one smaller red dot on his motion detector, he reached around a tree and fired a quarter of a clip. The Jackal that was lurking there went down. He brought the launcher up on his shoulder, setting the targeting lock right on top of the Shade. Steadying his aim and holding the tube straight, he fired and everyone watched as the projectile blew the gun clear off of the rock.

The Marines cheered as the Master Chief nodded and went back for the Warthog. He climbed in the driver's seat, buckled in, started the engine up, and looked towards the group of soldiers. "Well, who's coming?" he asked. They all scrambled and fought over who was going to ride once more.

Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee displayed on the control panels of his ship, an overbearing sense of violation, humiliation, and shame clawing at his mind as the Flood Commander loomed over him, running one of his hands down the Sangheili's torso. The Elite stared listlessly at the Flood leader. He could see the hatred, coldness, and lust in the beast's sickly, pale yellow eye.

"I hope eight was your lucky number……it's one of mine," Ivan chuckled as removed himself from the Ship Master. "Tell me……have any of your Heel friends ever felt like that? ……Answer me, you filthy rat!" Ivan then growled as he punched 'Fulsamee in the jaws. He felt at least one of his curved fangs wrench loose and the Flood's tentacles caused stinging welts to streak across his face.

"_Who's_ the master race?!" the Commander growled.

The Ship Master closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the control panel.

"I want to hear you _say_ it," Ivan demanded.

"……The Flood……" 'Fulsamee choked.

"……That's correct. Where are your Forerunners _now_?"

"Are you fanished yet?" Jared inquired irately.

Holding in his anger the best he could, Ivan answered. "Yes, Jared……I am finished. _Honestly_! Sometimes you're like the bitchy wife or the annoying boyfriend. You see this ass?" he asked, pointing to the seat of his breeches.

Jared sighed and shook his head again.

"It's so small because _you've_ been chewing it down for _three_ years!" Ivan sneered as he snatched his uniform from Captain Anderson and buttoned it up.

"You know, you _crould be_ over here revrewing our next invrasion with me other than vriolatring that Srangheili or drooling over shrif crontrols you cran't even operate," the ex-Covenant leader suggested coldly.

"Oh, _come on_, Jared! Don't you understand at all?! Take in this moment! _We've_ captured this vessel! _We've_ got the so-called 'greatest alien military force' soiling their armour! Can't you see by this weakling 'Ship Master' and his sniveling crew?" Ivan paused a moment as he and Jared watched a different officer bash in the head of the another Elite with the butt of his rifle.

"Universal domination is closer _now _more than ever. Soon the Flood will run this ebony abyss and _no one_ will stop us," Ivan allowed another cackle to finish his sentence.

Jared was silent for a moment, unfazed by the recent actions. "You _do_ realize that an armadra of mraybe one throusand Flood was more than a mratch fro the Crovenant warriors abroard this cruisder, don't you?"

"_Don't_ ruin this for me!" Ivan answered harshly, pointing an accusing finger at his co-dictator. He smoothed out his hair and placed his officer's cap on his head. "You _always_ feel the need to ruin my moments of glory."

Jared was about to continue on hindering the irate Ivan, when the ex-human heard static on his radio.

"……This is Commander Ivan," he said as he spoke into it. He was answered with more droning static. Rolling his eye, he nonchalantly looked over to Hindenburg and Anderson, who were sitting on the control panels to his right. He leaned against them next to 'Fulsamee.

"So……what did you boys think of _that _dirty deed?" he inquired, looking at his nails.

"You sure know how to 'stick it' to our enemies, Commander," Hindenburg said. Anderson didn't say anything, but kept his eyes focused on the Ship Master.

"Commander, this is Officer Kristallnacht—"

"—Ugh, it's about time—" he replied quietly.

"—The platoon back at the base has successfully captured the human army's leader and are inbound to the _Truth and Reconciliation._ Please have an escort squad ready to meet them upon arrival. Estimated time of arrival, five minutes."

"Excellent work, Officer. Tell them their request is granted. The squad will meet them at the north-most docking station. There's an energy field that will allow the U-boat to pass through. Over and out."

"What was that?" Jared questioned, approaching the other leader.

"Officer Kristallnacht told me a squad back at the base have captured the human leader. They will be arriving in five minutes," Ivan explained.

"Excerlent!" Jared agreed.

"Could this mission be _any more_ successful?!" Ivan laughed eerily.

Jared turned to a group of about thirty new combat forms who were waiting stiffly in the far-left of the room. "All of you, make yer way trew the front of the shrif. Trake along any other sroldur you mreet on the way, if you wish. You are trew mreet an incoming U-boat with very prorshush crago. See trew it that you get there ASAP and make sure the prisomer is harmed in no way." The group of Flood stifled laughter as they shambled out of the control room and raced to the loaded zone.

"Let it be known to the Flood and the galaxy that on this day, the final preparations for 'the Great Deluge' take place!" Ivan said. Both leaders began laughing maniacally, leaning up against one another.

"Guys?! I have to go to the bathroom _real bad_!" Papa Flood said, interrupting them. Ivan and Jared stopped laughing immediately. They turned to each other and said, "your turn".

After claiming the valley for Fire Team Zulu and fighting his way through more twisting corridors and climbing levels of Forerunner buildings, the Master Chief opened _still another_ hatch and peered outside again. He saw more snow and the base of a large pyramid construct. The Ghost there lay untouched because he had sniped the guards from up on another bridge.

"The entrance to the Control Center is located at the top of that pyramid," Cortana said. "Let's get up there. I recommend commandeering one of those Ghosts, we could use the firepower."

"Ghost schmost," the Master Chief said as he peered deeper into a crevice underneath one of the extensions from the structure. It was loaded with human weapons and ammunition, as well as the bodies of three dead Marines. He took up their dog tags, grabbed a rocket launcher again, and chose a Sniper Rifle just to see what he could accomplish from this distance. He managed to take out four or so soldiers on either side. He also spotted a Hunter on either long ramp to the pyramid. His aim was easy from the distance and hit both of the aliens dead on. Trading his Sniper Rifle for "Valerie", he took a deep breath and started to climb.

At the top of the pyramid, the Spartan paused to give his overly exerted shields a chance to recharge. He stepped over a dead Grunt and loaded the last clip into "Valerie". He noticed a huge front door at the top, along with a tower in which a zigzag ramp led up to. There was a holographic sign on the door that read "From Our Army to Yours, Best Wishes! The Covenant". The Chief had seen these mocking signs in various other places throughout his years. He found a holo-panel and stared at it for a second, planning his raid.

He was just about to press a likely panel, when two Hunters roared in anger and jumped down from the bottom ramp to the tower behind him. He backpedaled down the ramp to the level he was previously on and switched to the rocket launcher, nearly missing the two blasts of green energy. The eager "Jugganauts" charged for the Spartan as he loaded another rocket. Once he figured he was far enough to escape the rocket's bleed, he steadied his aim and fired. The rocket flew straight through the small gap between them and they continued to charge. The Master Chief backed right into one of the plasma turrets and hurriedly climbed aboard. Instantly, he showered the two Hunters with an unholy barrage of plasma fire. The barrage struck a Hunter who lowered a shoulder to rush him with and burned the worm-like organisms that weren't protected by armour. His inertia kept his body moving forward, though, and the shielded arm struck the turret, sending the Chief flying to the left and causing his shields to drop. Springing to his feet he had to crawl back to the first turret. The second Hunter ran at him full speed and he replied with a stream of energy. So overcome by the burning bolts, the behemoth finally toppled over and landed against one of the scattered cargo modules. Heart still pounding from the deadly assault, he exited the turret, took up his rifle again, and headed back to the doorway.

"So, what's the plan now?" Cortana asked.

"……This," he answered, pressing a button and hauling to the Shade to the right. He hopped aboard, swiveled the gun into place, and fired as soon as the first Grunts crawled out of the doorway. The Shade proved to be a big help. As soon as the soldiers came out, they were melted down.

Dismounting the turret, he entered the vast, hanger-like space, took the time to butcher two surviving blue-armoured Elites, and activated the next door.

"Scanning," Cortana said. "Covenant forces in the vicinity have been eliminated. Nicely done. Let's move on to Halo's Control Center."

He made his way through the last set of doors and onto an immense platform. A gigantic holographic map of the ring world was projected around the center of the platform, along with the planet Threshold and its moon, Basis. The light platform lacked any kind of railings, as did most bridges on the ring, and served to be a reminder for just how much edge the Forerunners had.

"This is it……Halo's Control Center," Cortana said as the Master Chief approached the center panels.

"What is it again?"

"Hal—asshole," she replied.

They were covered with hieroglyphs, none of which made any sense to him, and looked like some form of abstract art.

"That terminal, put me there," Cortana instructed. The Spartan reached out and touched one of the symbols. A giant holographic chart that read the time, date, and temperature appeared in front of him.

"_That_ apparently wasn't it," he said as he pushed it again and tried another. _This time_, a giant screen dropped from the ceiling and showed an old-fashioned baseball game from like, 1959 that no one is ever going to watch again. "My bad," the Chief said again.

The third button _wasn't_ the charm this time as another image dissolved into place and read "Play Mendicant Bias's demo tape?"

"_No_, I _don't_ want to listen to that hippy noise," the Spartan growled. "Wow, I _hate_ aliens."

He pressed yet another and four _was_ the charm. He felt Cortana's presence dwindle as she transmitted herself into the alien computer station.

"Are you all right?" he inquired of her.

"Never been better!" Cortana said excitedly. "You can't _imagine_ the wealth of knowledge, so much, so fast……_it's glorious_!"

"Yeah, _so_ fun. Now, what sort of weapon is it?"

"_What_ are you talking about?" the AI half sneered.

"Let's stay focused. Halo. How do we use it against the Covenant?"

"This ring isn't a cudgel, you barbarian, it's something else. Something much more important. The Covenant were right, this ring……it's Forerunner. Give me a moment to access……"

A moment later, she began to speak, her words rushed together in a flood (foreshadowing). "Yes, the Forerunners built this place, what they called a fortress world, in order to—"

In a split second, her voice was riddled with fright and frustration. "—No, no that can't be. Oh, those Covenant fools! They must have known, there must have been signs!"

The Chief frowned. "Slow down……you're losing me."

"What else is new? Look, the Covenant _found something_, buried, in this ring, something _horrible_, and now……they're afraid."

"Something _buried_?"

"The Captain! We've got to stop the Captain!"

"Keyes?"

"No, _Crunch_. The weapons cache he's looking for, it's not really—we can't let him get inside!"

"I _don't_ understand."

"There's no time!" Cortana said loudly. "Go! Find Keyes, and stop him……before it's too late!"

The Master Chief nodded and tore out of the room as fast as he could. Once she was sure he had vacated the vicinity, Cortana activated a different control.

"Yes, I _do_ want to play Mendicant Bias's demo tape……"


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**D+ 58:36:31 (SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock)/**

**Pelican Echo Four Niiiiiineteen, approaching Covenant arms caaaaaache**

**(OMG i just realized……ur Spartacus, master chizzle!)**

**(……Good)**

**(i knw, right?!)**

**(If I had a treat, I'd give it to you)**

**(score!) **

Echo 419's engines roared as they descended down into the dark, damp swamp. From his seat in the troop bay of the ship, the Master Chief thought the scenery looked like something out of B-Horror movie. He stood up and checked his rifle as soon as the ramp splashed into shallow water.

Foehammer's voice came over the radio. "_The laaaaaast transmission from Captain Keyes was from thiiiiiis area_._ When you find him_,_ raaaaaay_-_dee_-_oh in and I'll come piiiiiick you up_!"

"Be sure to bring me a towel," the Master Chief responded, stepping off of the ramp and into murky, calf-deep water. He heard hysterical laughter followed by an emphysema-laced cough on his radio as Foehammer began to bring the dropship up-spin.

He moved deeper into the dark, dreary swamp after checking his threat detector and finding it normal. Upon his walk through a small pond, he found the crash site of the Pelican he was looking for. The Chief moved closer to inspect the wreckage. From inside the wreck he could hear a radio fizzling in and out of frequency. The conversation was broken and from what he was able to piece together, involved Captain Keyes being taken by something somewhere in the vicinity. It conveniently let him hear all of the parts that were essential, almost like a cosmic set of annotations. Strange, there were no bodies, only weapons and med kits littering the area. The Chief hated the fact that there were many boxes of shotgun ammunition, but no shotguns.

He walked down the other side of a mound and right to a pair of Covenant work lights. They were placed just before another small pond, the result of a few good rainfalls flash flooding the areas with low elevation. The Master Chief looked up to further view the area around him, when he noticed quite a few objects hanging from the peculiar trees that dotted the swamp. Having been shrouded in shadows and foliage from the canopy, the Chief couldn't get a good look at what they were exactly. He moved closer to the first tree in his view and activated his helmet-flashlight. To his confusion, he saw the body of a Jackal. The creature had been disemboweled, from what the Spartan could gather, and was presumably hanging from said bowels. Whoever, or _what_ever, had done such a thing also placed a burlap sack over it's head and scratched a series of strange symbols into the tree by the alien's head. Master Chief shifted his gaze to the other trees that bordered the pool and noticed that other hangmen had been present as well. Seven others to be exact. All had been gutted, hung, sacked, and been labeled with the same array of symbols. The Chief took comfort in the fact that every tree he searched only harboured soldiers of Covenant origin, however, the manner in which the aliens had been displayed managed to disturb him somewhat. He knew even though human Marines did things like use Covenant cargo modules as toilets and throw puppies off of cliffs, they were incapable of performing such a cruel and intricate atrocity, even to enemy soldiers.

Moving on, he hadn't walked far until he came across a _second_ shipwreck. A Covenant dropship this time around, which would explain the casualties hanging from the trees. It was draped over another odd-looking tree, its double bows jammed into the mucky earth. Aside from these annoying moth-like insects and the distant cackles of swamp birds, there were no signs of life. He shrugged, jumped over some of the spider-like roots that extended from a tree, and continued across a path ahead made by a downed tree trunk.

He listened to the rain pattering the surface of his armour. It reminded him of rain pattering on a roof. It was very soothing. He had just lapsed into yet another moment of nostalgia, when he heard a nauseating squelching noise, a rustling of leaves, arrogant and vile laughter, and an exclaimation of, "hang 'em high! Let those Covenant bastards dangle!" This puzzled the Spartan. He checked his motion tracker and was surprised to find a scattering of yellow dots that indicated friendlies. He had hoped it was a squad of Marines, but the voices sounded too deep to be human. It sounded very much like an Elite, however, he had been in contact with _many_ Elites, and they _never_ used contractions and obviously didn't murder their own soldiers.

The Chief worked his way up a steep root and spotted a Shade straight ahead above a small depression. It would have bossed the entire area around, had someone been at the controls. He had two options. He could either jump on the Shade, hose the ravine, and let everyone know that he had landed, or he could sneak his way around the side and pick the enemies off, if there were any left.

He settled on the second option, slipped to the side of the ravine, and crawled along behind a patch of trees. The Chief waited for quite a few minutes, but no threats showed themselves upon his motion tracker.

Satisfied that the area was clear, he moved out of the brush and toward a squat building whose entrance resembled the angry face of an animal as he checked the entrance. The first few sets of branches in the nearby trees were brightly illuminated by the floodlights and the Chief could make out six more Covenant corpses, a Grunt's still swinging in a morbid pendulum-like fashion. Shining his flashlight on the newly field-dressed body, the Spartan noticed that the squat alien was labeled in English, not with symbols. "Filthy son of Forerunners" had been carved into the tree. The only other objects in the area were a few discarded shotgun shells, a protein bar wrapper, and a severed rope that rest on the ground. He entered the complex, stepping on a flat piece of wood as he did so. Unfortunately, not feeling the need to investigate it further, he didn't realize that it read "Here Thar Be Floods". He also dually noted the large propagandistic mural on the back wall and the desk in the right front corner. There was a folded sign on top that said "Be Back Wheneva". Slowly entering the huge lift in the center of the room, he touched the controls and descended.

The Master Chief had pressed on in the same complex Keyes and his team had been. He was desperately searching for clues that might lead him to the whereabouts of the Captain, however……nothing except for Covenant casualties had been produced. Every room he entered, every gap he passed, was vibrantly painted with shimmering blue and purple blood. Alongside the spatters of blood, there were perhaps hundreds of propaganda posters and murals throughout the complex, which perplexed the Spartan further.

"Now……are you going to behave yourself and do this right?"

"Yes! Yes, sir, Mr. Scary-Officer-Elite……"

"Excellent. Do it just like we practiced. If you get lost, look at the cues," Special Operatives Officer Zuka 'Zamamee explained to First Lieutenant Rick Hale aboard Pelican Charlie 217. He and his team of Spec Ops Elites had hijacked it, while Hale took a restroom break behind a tree, in order to gain access to Alpha Base and try to find the fabled "special-armoured human". An Elite wearing silver armour stood next to 'Zamamee, a grim expression on his face as he held up medium sized poster boards with Hale's lines on it, seeing as he was frightened to the "can't improv so I'll piss my pants instead" stage. This is eight out of the ten levels on the scale of stage-fright. He needed quite a bit of assistance.

"_This is insert dropship name here_—"

"—_No_!" 'Zamamee said, grabbing the back of the human's neck and pinching.

"Ah! I'm a little teapot, short and stout!" Hale began scream singing in submission as he keyed his mike off.

"Get it together, _human_! _Just like we practiced_! Now try again!" 'Zamamee growled, shoving him back into his chair.

"Okay……" Hale said, keying his mike again. "_This is Charlie 2_-_1_-_7_,_ I repeat_, _Charlie 2_-_1_-_7_. _Any UNSC forces read me_? _Over_."

"_This is UNSC Combat Base Alpha_._ Over_." a voice replied.

"_Thank_—_Gods_. _Oh_—_thank_—_Forerunners_._ Oh_—_my_—_Lords_._ We_—_took_—_a_—_hit_—_after_—_clearing_—_the_—_insert ship_……_the _Autumn_, but—managed_—_to_—_fix_—_everything_._ I have_—_got_—_a_—_woun_……_wumb_—_what_?_ What is that_—_OW_!_ I have got wounded on board and request immediate clearance_—_OW_!"

"This sounds _pretty_ peculiar," Com Techie First Class Mary Murphy said to Com Techie One Hundred Sixty Seventh Class Sandra Cho, making sure her mike was off.

"Yeah, you're right," Cho agreed. "Let's check. Yo, 'Ellsley!"

"What now?"

"Stop acting like such a princess. Look, we're getting requests for clearance from this guy who _claims_ he's in Pelican Charlie 217, but _we all know_ that it was lost when the _Pillar of Autumn_ went down," Cho explained.

"Partially true. He signed his band up to play at the 'Cotton Club' last night, but never showed. For grood measures, make him provide his name, rank, and serial number."

"This is 'Alpha Base', dude, _not_ the 'Cotton Club'. They tore that down to put in a 'Good Aid' _centuries_ ago."

"I think you mean 'Grood Aid'."

"Grood?" Cho asked.

"……That's how it's supposed to be said. Haven't you heard of the 'Great Vowel Shift' that took place in the early 2000s?"

"The letter 'R' isn't a vowel."

"One morning, you're going to wake up, and all of your computer files will be 'missing', _if_ you know what I mean," 'Ellsley said.

"_Fine_! _Sorry_,_ Charlie_—"

"—Say tuna fish after!" Murphy whispered to Cho.

"No! _Go_ _somewhere_! _Sorry_,_ but we need some information before you can come in_._ Gimme your name_,_ rank_,_ and serial number_. _Over_."

"_First Lieutenant Rick Hale_,_ serial number 876_-_544_-_321_._ Gimme a break_! _We need clearance_……_OW_! _I need clearance now_!"

"Well?" Cho asked of 'Ellsley.

"Psh, right. Like _that's_ his actual serial number. He could have just said 'five' over and over again. Hm……why don't you ask him a question that only someone from the UNSC Band would know?" the AI suggested.

"What should we ask?" Cho inquired.

"……Oh! Ask him what Miranda Keyes wanted to change the name of her frigate to!" Murphy suggested.

"Good one!" Cho answered.

"_Okay_……_one last thing_……_what was the name that Miranda Keyes wanted to change her frigate's current one to_?"

"……_What kinda question is that_?!" Hale said.

"_Answer the damn question_,_ or you'll never get inside_!"

"_Fine_! _Um_……_er_……_let's see_……_she's in 'In Amber Clad'_……_um_……_that was_—_it was 'Rattlesnake GorillaFuck'_!"

"Sonuvabitch ……he's right," Murphy said.

"Guess we gotta let him in," Cho said with a peeved teenager tone.

"Before you give him clearance, notify Major Silva, bring the base on full alert, and send the brass section to Pad Three. Hale should be debriefed and his sight-reading ability tested before he mingles with the rest of the band," 'Ellsley said.

"That guy sounds like a real piece of work……bet he _wears_ _briefs_," Cho said.

"I bet he goes commando," Murphy said. Cho laughed.

"_Okay then_. _You're cleared for Pad Three_._ It will be illuminated thirty_,_ twenty-nine_,_ twenty-eight seconds from now_._ Put down thy weapons and cut thy power when you land_._ Over_."

"_No problemo_,"Hale replied gratefully."_I see your lights_,_ we're coming in—I MEAN _I'M_ COMING IN_."

Hale keyed off of his mike and turned around in the pilot's seat to face the Elite. "So……how'd I do?"

'Zamamee gave him an "are you for real?" stare and then cleared his throat. "Well, to be completely honest……you are a poor actor. They are _totally_ on to us."

"Sorry. I took forensics instead of drama in high school……" Hale said, lowering his head.

"That's okay, that class is good, too," 'Zamamee said. And with that, he pulled out a maroon, gold-tasseled throw pillow from behind his back. He held it over the Marine's head and plunged it down onto his face. He pressed harder, trying to smother Hale, who tore at the pillow to try and get it off, and beat his foot against a control pedal. This caused the ship to accelerate quickly for a second then stop, then accelerate, then stop, like a high school kid who has just gotten into the driver's seat for the first time at Driver's Ed.

'Zamamee waited until the thrashing stopped and removed the pillow. As soon as he had done that, the whole cargo hold of Elites groaned loudly at the same time.

"Ha, ha! He soiled himself!"

"Aw, _man_! That guy just went to the bathroom before we stormed in, did he not?!"

"I cannot breathe!"

"Quit complaining! All of you! Now, you _know_ what to do. Turn on your stealth generators, check your weapons, and remember this moment—"

"—Psh, if the humans want to erase this particular part of my life, that is _fine by me_," one Elite said. The others began laughing.

"—You tell them that next time, 'Ramee, I am sure they would be _happy_ to oblige. You think this mission is _a joke_?! Who do you think you are? Riley 'Bodensee?" 'Zamamee snapped.

"That _does_ sound like something he would have said, does it not?" 'Ramee replied.

"I am not for certain, but _you_ _totally_ like him," a different Elite said, pointing at their officer. The whole body of aliens said, "OoOoOoh" at the same time.

'Zamamee went purple. "……Why do you talk such nonsense?! _E_-_Everyone hates him_!"

"True, very true."

"As I was saying……this battle, this victory, will be woven into your family's battle poems and sung by—"

"—Whoa! We have family battle poems?" one Elite asked, raising a hand. "I do believe I am at a loss as to what mine could be."

"My family's is _definitely_ 'Iron Sang'! I—am—Iron Sang—" the whole squad sang the guitar riff at the same time. 'Zamamee put one hand over his eyes and shook his head. He looked out the view port window and saw the bay lights. They spelled out "U Suck Covies!"

For this, the humans would pay……

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he entered yet another door, however, SPARTAN-117 came upon a lone Marine with an accordion smashed over his head. He was scampering about with his arms outstretched, helplessly trying to figure out where the hell he was headed. The Master Chief took the opportunity to approach him cautiously, as to not get whacked in the head by failing arms or cause the other soldier to trip and injure himself further. He finally grabbed hold of the Marine and yanked the thoroughly broken instrument off of his noggin, wondering why he hadn't prayed to Helen Keller for deliverance. The Marine looked around with an expression of both fear and confusion.

"Where am I?! What the hell is going on?!" he blathered quickly.

"Relax soldier……you had an, um……anyway, tell me, where the hell did it come from?" the Chief probed, keeping a firm grip on the squirming Marine.

"It was _them_!" he yelled.

"Who? The Covenant?"

"No! _Them_! God, I can still _hear_ them!"

"……Giant ants? Give me a hand."

"_No_! _Them_! They were these—these _things_! _Horrible things_……" the Marine said, his eyes darting from side to side as if trying to look at things that weren't present.

"……You do realize you are close to _no_ help. Look, draw your sidearm, get yourself up to the surface, and hunker down there until someone comes. There's going to be a dust off later, do you read me, soldier?"

The Marine nodded stiffly, still twitching and scouting the area around him. The Master Chief let go of him and the soldier promptly dropped to the ground in a heap and curled into a fetal position.

"Oh God……oh God, _please_……_don't_ make me be like them, _no_," he whimpered to himself. The Chief knew the man was probably doomed. Setting aside thoughts irrelevant to finding Keyes and figuring out what was going on, he stepped over the Marine and headed to the center of the vast room. He saw the remains of a badly torn ramp that was shrouded in a small inferno to the back of the room and caught sight of the flickering green light of an accessible door on the level above. He proceeded up the ramp and through the door. From there, he found himself in a rectangular gallery. Following the doors and more mysteriously empty rooms, he came to a dead Marine in a large pool of blood that caused him to pause. Something didn't feel right. There was almost no noise whatsoever, none too many enemies on the trip down here, and what the scarred Marine had managed to tell wasn't helping either. The propaganda that was plastered on every wall, ceiling, and bulkhead disturbed him as well.

He proceeded down the small ramp and came to a door with a heavy metal barrier on it, spoofer still attached. The door sensed his presence and slid open. What he saw then, actually made him drop "Valerie" on the floor.

There were creatures, loads of them, all horribly distorted, all laughing and hollering at one another. It seemed like the majority of them were singing some kind of folk song that he wasn't familiar with. It also appeared to be another language, if _that's_ what you'd call it, consisting of questionable noises and rough speech patterns similar to Germanic languages. The creatures all looked similar to human and Covenant bodies after you had buried them and exhumed the bodies in two weeks time. They were all wearing black or tan uniforms. There were smaller kinds too, all in which looked exactly alike, all fleshy green balls with messes of tentacles. They were scurrying around the floor or wrestling. The Master Chief drew a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it directly in the center of the room. The blast had ripped through a majority of the creatures as they all yelped and shouted in anguish and surprise, scattering about the room or looking towards the door where the Chief stood, rifle now raised. One by one the beasts charged directly at him. He loaded clip after clip into the wretched beings, crumpling them as the charged, leaped, and dived for him.

Once he cleared the room of all that moved, he took a better look at the surroundings. Red human blood and vile green slime smeared the floor and walls. Empty shell casings from assault rifle bullets covered the floor. He took notice of a Marine helmet lying on the floor, half-obscured by a dead creature. The Spartan reached for it and examined it. It belonged to Private Wallace A. Jenkins. Shaking his head at the loss, he reached inside of it and pulled out the video chip. Inserting in into the vacant slot in his helmet, he sat back and watched the scene unfolding……

The group of Marines plus Captain Keyes sat in the bay of a Pelican, listening to some intense, static-ridden punk music as they each took part in a phenomenally droll and insulting conversation about one PFC having strange fantasies about the Covenant abducting him, erasing his mind, and taking advantage of him. The next scene was the same group coming up on the structure he was currently inside, taking note of the entrance being blocked off by a solitary rope and a sign that read "Here Thar Be Floods" and the hilarious welcome mat. The Spartan missed the mat on the way in and hoped to see it in person when he left. Thinking the sign was some sort of childish Covenant prank or weather warning, they trampled over it and continued on inside. The next event was more interesting. It showed the conversation and defiant actions taken against the Flood secretary who hadn't been present upon the Chief's arrival. It also reeled a Private and Sergeant Johnson observing a dead Elite with his innards leaking from his body and taking on a "scrambled" exterior. Another Private also pointed to the ceiling; in which everyone looked up and a large mural of two creatures similar to the ones he had encountered and wearing the garb of old-fashioned soldiers appeared in Jenkins's view. They too noticed the same figureheads were on _every_ ceiling in the complex. He made a comment about the vaguely humanoid one looking familiar and the scene cut to black. The next was Captain Keyes ordering their Techie to open the door, which he obediently did, and they came upon four more creatures playing cards. There was a moment of silence, when the team merely watched the creatures, then a small conversation between the two groups, and everyone opened fire as chaos commenced, then the whole video cut out. "I think he's dead" appeared in a pixilated font, blinked twice, and cut to black again.

The Master Chief popped the chip out, tossed it away, and took up "Valerie" again. He exited the way he came and prepared himself to take on his new enemy.

Captain Keyes awoke to the sound of "Marsche Militaire" by Johann Strauss, which sounded like it was being played on an old-fashioned record player. Immediately snapping his eyes open and straining, he found he was in the same exact position as he had been on the Covenant ship when he was prisoner……tied to a chair roughly.

"My name is Captain Keyes……not again. My name is Captain Keyes, well, this isn't the first time," he said as he shook his head and observed the area. The first thing he noticed was what looked to be like an old man in a wheelchair who was nodding off in a far corner of the room. However, the creature didn't look _completely_ like a man. The room looked alarmingly similar to the Covenant brig he had been confined to the day before, only, it seemed less gloomy. There was an Elite lying on the ground on top of the control platform. Keyes couldn't tell if he was dead or not. The room was loaded with creatures dressed in matching black uniforms and maroon armbands. A group in black uniforms were teasing a few Covenant in a corner. Two creatures, same to the ones he had previously encountered, were sitting at a small alien table. The one to the left was the same kind of faceless, ominous ex-Covenant soldier and the other was a human whatever it was. Studying the creature more carefully, he couldn't help but realize that he looked oddly familiar. Both were dressed in traditional World War II inspired Nazi garb, a war he himself had heard of and read so much about. The ex-Covenant, and larger of the two, rose from his chair slowly.

"I'll be brack," he said as he made for one of the many doors located at the opposite sides of the room. His posture was obscenely straight, like most commanding officers, and hinted a large amount of pretension. Once positive that the other was out of the room, the human-like beast leaned over the table and looked at his friend's cards. Nodding to himself, he quickly switched a few of the cards and even managed to hide some in one of his tall jackboots.

"……My name is Captain Keyes and that's not very honest," he said weakly in the ex-human's direction.

Immediately looking up, along with every single guard in the room, he glared upon Keyes. "Shut up," he growled. "You _didn't_ see anything." The Captain got a good look at his mangled face in the light and recognized both the pointed features and crooked teeth of a Major he hadn't seen in years. Major Stefan Hurtz. Hurtz was an excellent soldier who appreciated the work of his men and would sooner throw himself in front of a plasma grenade if it mean saving the lowest of Privates. This new monster had transformed one of the UNSC's finest into a disgustingly polar opposite being.

The other creature reentered the room not too long after. He took his seat again and picked up his cards. He put them back down on the table and leaned forward, glowering with eyes that weren't present. "……You dridn't drew anythring you mright regret, _drid you_?" he asked.

"Why, my dear Jared, you're not accusing _me_ of _cheating_, are you?" the former Major asked sweetly and innocently.

"My name is Captain Keyes—Major Hurtz……is that _you_?" Captain Keyes interrupted.

"Look who's frinelly conscious," the one called Jared said.

"……Captain Jacob Keyes," he answered, nonchalantly tossing his cards onto the table. "I go by the name _Commander_ Ivan now, which is a _higher_ rank than _Major_ if you haven't noticed," he corrected harshly. Both leaders rose from the table and approached him.

"My name is Captain Keyes and there _is_ _no_ 'Commander' rank in the army, that's Navy."

"It is when you're apart of the _Flood_ army. It's the _highest_ rank. So tell me Keyes……what reason do you and your Marines have to disturb the Flood?" he asked, casually leaning against the chair.

"……Is that like 'hurts, dron't it'?" Jared asked, trying to stifle laughter.

"……No, it's not like 'hurts _dron't_ it', Ja_red_. If anything it would be like 'don't it'. Perhaps you should focus on minding your thoroughly disabled, nonexistent tongue."

He mumbled something inane, defeated.

"My name is Captain Keyes……we thought your ring was a weapon," he answered.

Both commanding officers exchanged glances and then started laughing uproariously.

"You stupid cur, the ring _itself_ isn't a weapon, it's a _prison_ in which _we_ have been kept captive! The pulse generators in its powerhouses are the weapon. It's designed to kill off beings like _you_ so _we_ don't get ahold of you," Ivan explained. "Like what happened to your precious Major's body, which is, by the way, doing _wonders_ for me."

"My name is Captain Keyes, you _do_ know that a Flood is a mass intrusion of water, right?"

"Jared, he's adorable," Ivan said to his partner.

"His uninfrormed mentrality is so cute."

"All you need to know, Jacob, is that _the Flood_ is the master race. The most _superior _organisms in the the galaxy. When you add all of our fellow prisoners on the other rings, we're like a giant, unremitting juggernaut. We all work together to destroy every race, the ones that are impure, especially those damned Forerunner rats," he continued. "You _do _know you always state your name and rank before you speak, _right_?"

"My name is Captain Keyes and it's because of a battle concussion. My name is Captain Keyes and the Covenant were gracious enough to give it to me as a present."

Both officers guffawed again.

"My name is Captain Keyes and what_ happened_ to you, Hurtz……I mean, 'Ivan'. My name is Captain Keyes and I'm delighted to admit that you were one of the UNSC's finest tools. My name is Captain Keyes, you successfully obliterated the Covenant on several accounts. My name is Captain Keyes, but now you're running a society who's blinded by this new way of life and acts in favour of Nazism."

"_Not_ Nazism……Deluge," Ivan corrected. "The Nazis were amateurs. They obviously _didn't_ know the real definition of 'racism' seeing as they tried to kill other _humans_. I will _not_ be insulted by a term of such ignorance."

"My name is Captain Keyes……_what_?"

"Yes. 'Deluge' is our hostrill trake over of the univrerse in which only creatrures that are Flood roam," the other officer explained.

"My name is Captain Keyes and if you mean creatures that are only Flood, I suppose you're referring to _ex-human_ _and Covenant_ soldiers! My name is Captain Keyes……you don't have a _real_ army or people. My name is Captain Keyes and your society is based off of lies and an unattractive, beastly form of plagiarism. My name is Captain Keyes and if you're even further talking about those green testicles that infect everyone, they're nothing in the wake of an eight gauge shotgun barrel."

Commander Ivan growled, bared his crooked teeth, and viciously backhanded Keyes.

"Our society is superior to _you_ filthy vermin _ten fold_! You'll regret the day you angered the Flood!" he yelled. "It is God's wish that all life forms other than the Flood be destroyed and I intend to do everything necessary to make sure that you pigs don't continue to run rampant, poisoning _my_ galaxy!"

"Calm drown, Ivan. Grod frorbid you mress up your hair fur the 'Strate of the Floodvermrent' spreech later," the other officer said unenthusiastically, putting an arm in front of Ivan and restraining him from going all out on Keyes.

"……Oh, thank you, Jared. I nearly forgot about that. Reinhardt!" he screamed. A tall, muscular ex-human woke up abruptly in his chair by the center door. He hurried over to the Commanders and saluted.

"Yes, mein Führer," he answered obediently.

"……Torture him……do what you want, just make him talk," Ivan said matter-of-factly, immediately banishing all of his anger.

"With pleasure," Reinhardt answered as he made his way over to the bound Captain. Ivan grinned mischievously as he smacked the officer on the ass. Reinhardt giggled in a manly fashion and pulled up a chair next to Keyes.

"My name is Captain Keyes, _do your worst_, you creepy, man-touchy hooligan!" Keyes said loudly.

"I'll do the best I can, you repetitive, homophobic bastard," Reinhardt replied.

"Hurry up, Reinhardt! The suspense is killing me……" Ivan said devilishly. Officer Reinhardt stuck his finger in his mouth for a moment and then withdrew it. Dripping with rancid, green Flood saliva, he plunged it as far as he could into Captain Keyes's right ear. The Captain screamed and thrashed in agony.

"My name is Captain Keyes and it's leaking into my brain!" he hollered.

"Where are your rebel friends _now_?!" Reinhardt laughed maniacally, twisting his finger in the pitiful human's ear.

Keyes endured a full three minutes of that torture, until all the saturation had subsided.

"If you don't start talkin', the next time I do this, it _won't_ be my finger and this _won't_ be your ear."

"My name is Captain Keyes and I don't know who I hate more……the Covenant or the Flood," he answered.

"Is he cooperating, Reinhardt?" Ivan asked.

"Nope, I've done all _I _can do," Reinhardt said, rising from his chair.

"Ugh, very well. You did your best," Ivan said. He stalked over to the corner with the ancient Flood. He took a hold of the wheelchair and Keyes could hear the old man start to complain.

"Who, wha-huh? What's going on?! Unhand me!"

"Relax Papa Flood, it's Ivan."

"Is it time for my morphine drip yet?"

"No. You're going to partake in an activity _much_ more fun……" he positioned the aged Flood behind Captain Keyes's chair and returned to his spot next to Jared.

"……Now what do I do? Do I know this man?" Papa Flood inquired as he pointed to Keyes.

"No, Prapa Flood……we need to know where the planret Earth is, where other senjent life may bree, and whatever else you may prick up that cran bree usefrul," Jared instructed. "So, drew what you drew brest."

"Oh, okay," Papa Flood said with a nod. He tapped Keyes on the shoulder gently. The Captain turned around and faced him as best he could. The Flood gazed at him with forced hate. "Okay sonny, tell me where I we can find Smurfs and sentimental tripe!" he demanded hoarsely, pointing at him.

Ivan smacked his forehead and Jared shook his head.

"_No_, Papa Flood! You don't _ask_ him! You tap his spinal cord, seize his brain, and _make him _tell you!_ Force_ is the only tool that is proven to work on humans."

"Oh, right! I remember now," he said. He slowly and tremulously lifted himself a little bit off of his chair, grabbed a hold of Keyes's head, and placed it in his mouth. Jared and Ivan both waited on bated breath, hoping for some sort of useful outcome. They waited for a full seven minutes.

"……My name is Captain Keyes and I am _really_ uncomfortable," he said.

"Ugh, this isn't working," Ivan said angrily.

"Am I done yet?" Papa Flood asked. "All I got was that one time when McIntire cheated in that game of Mahjongg. Where you there, too?" Papa Flood asked again, turning the Captain's head and looking him in the eyes.

"……My name is Captain Keyes, and no sir, I wasn't there, but that guy sounds like a total jerkface."

"This is hopeless," Ivan said, placing a hand over his eyes and the other on his waist.

Stanley Flood was dragged and shoved through Alpha Base, down to the first of two detention centers. But this one, however, didn't have _prison_ cells. It was used more as an examination room. Other Flood forms were there as well. Two dead infection forms lay barred to a heavy iron table and a dead Covenant combat form was also barricaded the same way. Stanley hoped that it wasn't Patrick. Prior to anything that involved caging or dissecting, Stan was held until they could get another Flood form that was locked in a small room to settle down. Observing the general area, his attention was turned to the screams of terror and hysteria that emitted from the back of the detention center suddenly. He watched two ODST officers drag another human form into the room. The guy was utterly terrified. Shouting and twitching aside, his only good eye was dilated to the point where you could barely see his pupil. Bullet pockets had ripped through his Storm Trooper uniform. He put forth complete effort in trying to escape.

"I'm flying guys! _I can fly_! I can fly!" he drawled loudly, his voice cracking a bit. Ignoring the pitiful creature entirely, the officers roughly strapped him to the top of an iron table, exchanging no words at all, not even an annoying or lame insult.

_Probably one of Jared and Ivan's traumatized sheep_, he thought to himself.

No sooner had he thought that, the other Flood began screaming, "Heil Ivan!" and "Sieg Flood!" at the top of his lungs. It only lasted for about thirty seconds until his voice gradually came to a decrescendo and he stopped. He did, however, continue to twitch and writhe on the table.

Before he could think any further, Stanley was kicked into one of three small rooms with tiny windows in the doors, something that reminded him of a cell at an insane asylum. Another human combat form was occupying the same room. He had himself pressed against the wall and was held down fast. His wrists were bound with heavy chains. The Marines slammed the door and Stanley could hear one of them yell, "hey El-Tee! We got another live one!"

Stan sat up and shook his head. He eyed the other Flood. He was huddled in a corner, looking around nervously, and muttering to himself. _Great_,_ he's newly infected_, Stan thought to himself. He could tell that it hadn't been too long ago, and naturally, the host's mind hadn't been fully taken over yet.

"How long you been in here?" Stanley asked, his tone lacking emotion.

"……About a half an hour," the other Flood replied.

"Recently infected, eh?"

"……I don't wanna talk about—Sieg Flood! _No_! _Resist_! Get outta my brain!"

"…..Okaaaaaay, I'm gonna sit over _here_," Stanley said.

"Argh! It's the Forerunners's fault—what the hell is a Forerunner?!" the other Flood asked himself as he writhed and thrashed around. Stanley rolled his eye as he took a cigarette out of a pocket in his battle vest.

"You haven't gotten used to it yet, have you?" Stanley said, lighting up for the umpteenth time.

"_Get used to it_? How do you get used to _this_?!"

"Easy, just submit. The Flood form's gonna win out in the end. Would you rather by a Dr. Jekyll case for the rest of your life or die a peaceful, gradual death?"

"……Don't talk to me!"

Stanley chuckled. "Private Wally Jenkins?"

The other combat form turned around quickly. "H-how did you know?"

"I'm secretly Michael Gallolawrence," he answered.

Jenkins turned around to get a better look at him. "……Mike?"

Stanley nodded.

"Ergh! Where are the humans?! _I need food_!"

"I'm wondering what I did to deserve this, exactly……" Stanley said.

Jenkins stopped thrashing and sat, inhaling heavily. He only looked about half of a Flood form and kept switching between the Flood and the Jenkins personality. Stanley had dealt with guys like this before, they were ultimately sent directly to him because, with his relationship with Big Pat, he could tolerate a large amount of complaining and mood swings. He was also one of the only soldiers whose host body had read "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", making him more familiar with the multiple personality situation. He'd seen it before, the Flood personality would take over in a matter of time. By now, Jenkins was bashing his head against the wall, fighting the Flood thoughts of domination.

"……Ya done now, Dr. Jekyll?" he asked when the other Flood was finished.

He sat up, breathing heavily. "……Yeah," he said with an inspired smile as he looked towards the ceiling of the cell.

"Good," Stanley said, rolling his eyes again.

"What kinda sick disease _is this_?" Major Silva said to Lieutenant McKay as they watched through the small window.

"_That_, Major, is what the Covenant refer to as 'the Flood'," she answered. "These former soldiers are what's called a 'combat form'. This is what they start out as—" she explained as she led him over to her various exhibits of dead Flood. I guess we all have our hobbies.

The Spartan met hundreds of the new alien creatures as they came in hordes to greet him with each passage through a different door. Firing madly into the masses of fleshy creatures and at beastly and disfigured bipedal beings, he rushed through every entrance, hoping for a way out, or at least a clearing. After what felt like an eternity later, he finished off the last of the small aliens and backed through an automatic door. He heard something that sounded like whistling, and as soon as he turned around, he ran smack into a human-like creature, causing him to drop his coffee mug and give a shout of surprise.

"Aw man," he said with much apathy.

"I'm sorry," the Master Chief said, bending down and picking the mug up.

"Thanks, boss," the creature said as he started off through the door the Chief had just entered. He noticed the assault rifle slung across the creature's back, realized what he had just done, and unloaded a clip into the alien form. He yelled in surprise and slammed to the floor in the doorway. Just as the Spartan was about to continue into the room, the creature crawled onto its knees and stood back up.

"Talk about a real let-down," he said as he sighed in anger and began pulling 7.62mm rounds from

his abdomen. To the Master Chief's utter horror, the thing _still_ wasn't dead.

"_First_, he knocks my coffee outta my hand _and then_ he's got enough nerve to gun me down. Like, _WTF, _man?" he grumbled to himself. Figuring that there was no way the alien was going to get a second chance, he tackled the creature and beat the living daylights out of it with the butt of a shotgun he had recently picked up.

_This time_,_ you better_ _stay dead_, he thought to himself. He stepped clear of the creature, turned around, and was faced with more of the corpse-like aliens as they began to rain down into the room from the upper level. After eliminating everything that moved in the room and making sure all of them didn't get up, he passed through the door opposite him. The Master Chief found himself looking over another area similar to the room he just left, only it was home to a half dozen of the two-legged freaks, who were busy chasing around a group of about seven Grunts and two Jackals. Instead of engaging himself in the skirmish, he fell back and pressed his body against a wall. He watched the hellish scene as Grunts got raped, beaten, and sat on. The two Jackals cowered in fear as the monsters had them pressed into a corner and were emotionally abusing them, telling them all sorts of degrading things like, "your mother doesn't love you!" and "your thighs look fat in that armour!". Realizing that the group of Covenant had almost no hope in battling the new enemy, he had no choice but to reload both "the Clyde", his newly acquired shotgun, and "Valerie" and get to work.

Stanley had spent roughly an hour, a very boring hour, with his new cellmate, listening to the Flood's complaints and problems. Now, almost fully adapt to Floodification, he sat in a rather hysterical state.

"And then……before I could do anything else, it jumped on me! And then—and then……then these other guys in black uniforms came over……and I was held down and they took turns punching me and telling me I had to obey the leaders and if I didn't……they'd do worse things to me!"

"_Get it together_, man! What's done is done and there's nothing you can do! God, I _hate talking_," Stanley said angrily.

"But—but I'm not _used_ to this! And I've never lived under a fascist government!"

Before Stanley could begin another sentence, the heavy iron door groaned open. In walked Major Antonio "the Boss" Silva, except, the only one who knew about the absurd nickname was 'Ellsley. He was accompanied by Lieutenant Melissa McKay and a well-meaning Sergeant carrying a shotgun who occupied his time by staring at her fanny whenever she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Well, well ,well……look who decided to join the party," Stanley said casually upon their arrival.

"Can it, you obscene monstrosity," Silva growled.

"Careful, sir, these suckers are incredibly violent," the Sergeant said as he pumped a few shells into his shotgun. Major Silva stared at Stanley who was studying his cigarette in a thoroughly bored manner. He looked _anything_ but violent.

"Major, the one to the left, Private Jenkins, he—do you _mind_?" she demanded from the Sergeant, who grinned innocently and focused his eyes on the ceiling.

The Sergeant turned back to the distorted Private and stated, "he looks dead."

"I'll take it from here," Stanley said to Jenkins, who was lying on the floor, curled up in a corner. "Soooooo……what can I help you with? My name is Stanley and I'll be your tour guide."

After spending a moment or two staring smugly at Silva, he glanced over to the right.

"Here's lookin' at you, honey. Gonna stick around later?" he said seductively.

"Okay……I'm getting so sick of this! It's not funny anymore!" McKay stated loudly.

"I wasn't talkin' to _you_! I'm after that macho Sergeant in the back……"

The Sergeant, in return, slowly lifted his shotgun and aimed it at Stanley's head.

"Ooh, kinky. I love a man with big guns."

"That's enough! I've heard enough of your blathering, homosexual subluminal messaging!" Major Silva said.

Stanley smirked. Silva stared blankly at the ravaged ex-soldier and then promptly shoved McKay in between himself and the Flood.

"Well……get on with your interrogation, McKay," he said.

"Hey! _You_ were the one who—_no_!" McKay answered, pushing the barrel of the Sergeant's shotgun towards the ground while wrestling with the Major. "_You're_ the one who's in charge around here," she said.

"Yes, but _you're_ a _girl_. He won't try to hit on _you_."

"Okay, fine! The UNSC is of a democratic body, let's take a vote. Who wants _me_ to carry out with the interrogation? Show of hands."

Major Silva's hand went up. _Only_ Major Silva's hand went up.

"Okay……who wants Major Silva?" McKay raised her hand, as did the Sergeant and Stanley.

"Oh man, I missed voting," Stanley remarked.

The Lieutenant shrugged. "Majority still rules, even in space, sir."

Silva groaned and cautiously approached the creatures, despite the fact that he had put on his best "angry Major face".

"All right then. My name is Silva, I assume you both know Lieutenant McKay here. First, I want you both to know that we are ex—"

"—Permission to speak freely, sir?" Stanley asked, raising his hand.

"……Go ahead."

"_I'm_ the team spokesman."

"……Dually noted."

"Cool."

"……As I was saying," he cleared his throat, "we are extremely sorry for what happened to you both out there, and—"

"—Sorry? Why do you need to be sorry? This is like, the best thing that's ever happened to me! I hated life before I acquired this host body. How about you Jenkins?"

"I don't wanna talk about it!" he said, raising his voice to an almost falsetto.

"See? Everybody wins!"

"Well……the other soldier that looked like you appeared to be taking his current status very poorly, so—"

"—Who? Frankenstein's monster out there on the slab? Fuck that other guy," Stanley said. He went over to the door and opened it. The Sergeant lifted the rifle to his head as he stuck it out of the room. "Hey, you! _Shut up_!"

"_You_ shut up!" was the answer that everyone heard.

"See? Just another fascist monster……" Stanley said as he rolled his eye and leaned up against the wall in his corner.

"……Are you finished?"

"Yep."

"Well……continuing on, we're trying to get off of this ring. But, before we can successfully do that, we need to continue our hold on this butte."

"……Ha ha, you said butte……it kinda sounds like butt……" Stanley said.

Major Silva shut his eyes tightly. "_McKay_, won't you do _anything_?"

"Hey, _you_ got more votes than me. Besides, you're _still_ a higher rank."

"God damn it," he said to himself. "_As I was saying_……we need to hold down the fort. This is where _you_ come it. _You two_ know how the Flood move around. Now, if you had _my_ job, if you had to—"

"—Permission to speak freely, sir?" Stanley said, raising his hand.

"_Now what_?"

"……Is the moustache new, or have you like, always had it? It makes you look kind of like Koba the Dread. Let's not neglect the fact that he had _the best_ moustache in all of history."

Major Silva set his mouth in a firm line and stared at the ceiling without tilting his head back. "You know, _the longer_ you two stall, _the longer_ this stupid questionnaire will take."

"Well _stop_ monolouging and get to your inquiries!" Stanley argued.

"That's _not_ the way you talk to your commanding officers, Private!" Silva roared.

"_My_ '_commanding officer_' is aboard a Covenant ship probably fucking the Ship Master's brains out," the Flood retorted. Stanley's features retained the same half-bored, half-smug look, despite having an enraged Major's nose pressed to his in challenge. "Hm……_this_ must be why you haul-up in that office and never associate with anyone other than AIs. You just _love_ to get in people's faces."

Silva's look of aggression changed immediately from provoked to astounded as he reviewed the ex-soldier's defiant tone and the mention of alien sex. After countless reminders via Lieutenant McKay that Gallolawrence was a Private in the UNSC Marine Corps, he was aware that the new enemy had completely altered his mind and fashioned an almost entirely new being.

"Oh, yeah?! Well……you smell like road kill!" Silva said.

"_That_ remark just cost you intel on the Flood network," he said with a cheeky smile.

"……Please?"

"No can do, _Major_."

Major Silva growled. "I'm finished being the good cop! You! Former Jenkins, same question."

"……Wait, did you just call me 'farmer' Jenkins?" he asked.

Silva slapped his hand to his forehead.

"……If you build it, they will come," Stanley chuckled.

"Will one of you _please_ give me a civil answer? I'm _begging_ you."

"All right, _fine_! Seeing as you're _so_ desperate……check in the basement," Stan advised.

"Underneath the base?"

"Duh! It's creepy down there, the Flood are creepy, put two and two together. Powers of observation."

"_Thank you_! _Finally_. Ugh, all right then. We'll go check the basement and be back to talk to you later."

Stanley tipped his head back and groaned and Jenkins began clawing at a wall from his spot on the floor.

"I know. I'm just as excited as you are. McKay, _you're_ doing the talking next time."

"We'll see about that," they heard the two officers argue as the party left the cell.

"Where ya goin'?" Stanley questioned the Sergeant as he placed his hand on the handle to the door. "You must get _so_ bored watching crazy, horny aliens all day……how about tryin' one out? I'll do _whatever_ you want……_if_ the price is right."

Turning around to acknowledge the creature for a split second, he hurriedly opened the door and exited as fast as humanly possible, slamming the door behind him.

"Psh, _insecure_," Stanley spat.

After dealing with dozens of Flood to Covenant battles, the Spartan arrived at a likely looking chamber. Another one of the bipedal creatures dropped from the ceiling and landed right on him. The Spartan staggered back and threw the thing off of him. It hit the wall and slid down.

"Slimy _human_," he said as it shook his head and looked up at him spitefully. The Master Chief aimed the shotgun at his head and fired. As he was blown apart, gray-green fluid splashed to the floor. The Spartan felt an uncustomary emotion: A trickle of fear. There had been absolutely zero notifications of the new enemy and they had spread in unfathomable numbers. Well, at least no notification that he actually noticed, analyzed, or took seriously.

He took in a breath, exhaled deeply, and charged around a wall and into the center of the chamber. A large group of the creatures were conversing about some inane subject in which the Spartan was not the least bit curious. He threw himself in the middle of their circle, battering aside a good number of the bipedal beings and crushing a group of smaller ones underneath his heavy boots. The rounds from "the Clyde" pierced the seemingly quiet atmosphere as he blew as many of the creatures as he could to grotesque pieces.

His main objective: The large lift platform similar to the one who brought him down into this world of mentally scarring and obscene beasts. He reached out for the control panel and hoped he'd find an "up" button. Just as he was about to punch a control, a voice came from behind him.

"Why you retched, vile _human_!" he heard as a hostile launched itself into the air and landed right next to him. The Master Chief got down on one knee, jammed the barrel of "the Clyde" into the creature's abdomen and unloaded. Slamming his hand down on the controls, the lift shot down so fast that his ears popped.

_Where the hell was Cortana when you needed her_, he thought to himself as he reloaded. He was beginning to miss the slightly nagging and motherly directions and advice from her. The Master Chief had noticed something similar to a vast majority of the distorted demons he had encountered. They all wore maroon armbands with brown upper case "F's" on them. This was something that confused him even further. He also took the time to scan the ceilings of every room and chamber he had been in to check for more murals. Sure enough, there had been a different one on every ceiling.

The basement, or whatever kind of chamber it was, had all the charm of a crypt. A tight, dark passageway led him to another room in which he had to, yet again, fight his way across to the other side. He was greeted by a tunnel-like corridor. That's when the Spartan heard two distinct and clear voices in the next room. He peered around the corner quietly and immediately noticed the horribly ravened face of Private Manuel Mendoza, Sergeant Johnson's "favourite" soldier. He was standing in front of another, more intimidating, creature with an elaborate uniform. Mendoza was now wearing a beige shirt.

"Protect this base from any human threat! Your leaders are counting on you to keep the Flood safe!" the imposing officer snapped.

"_I will_, Field Marshal, thank you," he barked back. The Chief noticed that he was robbed of his Latino accent and it was replaced with a harsh, barking tone.

"Excellent, _Heil Ivan_!" the Field Marshal hollered, holding up his left arm.

"_Heil Jared_!" Mendoza returned the salute and the Field Marshal immediately tore off in the opposite direction.

"……Mendoza?" he asked, just to make sure.

"A human!" he said loudly as he fumbled for an M6D pistol strapped to his belt. The Master Chief neatly and cautiously stepped closer to Mendoza, pointing "the Clyde" at the floor to signal he wanted no trouble. Mendoza finally got the pistol out and had the courage to point it at the Chief. He was breathing heavily through his nose and his hand trembled.

"……Don't do it, Mendoza," he said shaking his head. Mendoza didn't shoot, but he kept the pistol up. He gently reached for it and cocked it. The Chief stepped a little closer and reached out for the gun.

"Don't come any closer! I'll-I'll shoot you!" Mendoza threatened, taking a large step back. "I'll-I'll kill you!"

"Don't let it control you, Mendoza."

The Spartan rushed him, taking a hold of the pistol's muzzle. He gripped firmly for a moment or two before gently pulling it out of the soldier's hand.

"……I don't want any trouble. Come with me. We'll get back to the surface and the medics can fix you."

Mendoza just stood at the ready, refusing to budge.

"Come on……you're _not_ one of them," the Chief eased.

Mendoza waited a whole minute before he turned and called out to his commanding officer.

"Field Marshal! Field Marshal!" He seized a silver whistle that hung around his neck. Upon its signal, the smaller aliens poured out of every cranny in the room. The Spartan released an eight gauge surprise, realizing that the transformed Mendoza was getting hostile and wasn't going to listen. Two shots were enough to tear him apart. A few more buckshots served to cut down the waves of aliens, seeing as once a group popped, the others followed. He was thankful that they were easy to kill with the right weapons. Further observance of the dead creatures served to answer some of the Chief's rhetorical questions and raise some new ones as well. He wondered about the small tentacled creatures and figured that they must infect the host like some kind of oversized parasite and took up residence in the body. Assuming that the new enemy was some sort of Covenant bio-weapon, he reloaded his shotgun and continued forth. The episode forced him into a dead run as he cleared the rest of the room and scrambled to the gallery above the next. He was intercepted by an Elite form with an armband as it attempted to grab a hold of him, realizing his assault rifle was empty. The Spartan aimed "the Clyde" in the middle of his back and unloaded buckshots as he side-stepped to avoid it.

The area on the other side of the room was a challenge. The second floor which he occupied was vacant, but an army of the freaks was patrolling the first floor. All of which had the same maroon armbands. Expertly thrown grenades, a jump from the walkway, and endurance of sixty seconds of hand-to-hand combat were enough to see him through to his goal.

In addition to the already nasty, tentacled punches, both Covenant and human forms had acquired weapons from both groups of soldiers, not to mention bad attitudes and an array of racial slurs. It appeared that the new foes weren't the sharpest tools in the shed. Though completely brainwashed by some absolute force, they knew how to operate weapons skillfully and it seemed they had retained their motor skills from their hosts' past life.

Beyond the carnage, the Master Chief was fixed on an area where two Marines had staged a last stand and lay sprawled on top of a cargo container. He stopped to recover their dog tags and scavenge some ammo and then continued on, yearning to get the hell out of the once forsaken hole.

Riley awoke from his nap later on. His wake up call was Hanjk singing a Gogol Bordello song while continuing his etching on the cell wall. He also noticed that "KibblesnTankShrapnel" was awake too, but he hadn't left his spot as Riley's pillow. He was, however, reading his novel. Big Pat was still asleep beside him and noise outside of his cell was scarce.

"Sally was a fifteen year old gell from Nebrahska! Gypsies were passin' through her lit-el town!" Hanjk sang roughly to himself as he started the bottom half of a very pissed off and very naked Major Silva next to the "Adidas" in olde English font. Riley giggled and shook his head.

"You 'wake?" "Kibbles" axed from over his heavily armoured shoulder.

"Yep," Riley answered as he yawned and put his glasses on.

"Baaaaaaaal-lin'!" Hanjk yelled out of the blue.

Big Pat sat up with a start. "Did I miss something?"

"Way to go, Hanjk……you woke up Pat," Riley said over his shoulder to the Jackal.

"Psh, sor-ry!"

"No really……is someone havin' sex?" Pat asked.

"Nope. Sorry. Hanjk is just having episodes," Riley explained.

"Oh," Big Pat sighed. "See, in our base, the higher-ranking Floods abuse their power and they just rape soldiers under their command. All the other officers watch too, s'like Monday night football to them."

"Wow……you guys are, pretty open," Riley commented. "I've seen Sangheili doin' stuff like that, too, except, they don't rape one another. They welcome it. I've only seen it twice in public, though."

"I know. My host's seen a few of those, too."

"Who's havin' sex?" a Marine asked from his seat by the door as he dropped an issue of "A Magazine That Has a Bunch of Pinup Girls Made Especially for the Armed Forces of Earth" down from in front of his face.

"No one, ah was jus' bein' randim" Hanjk said through the bars of the cell as he looked in the Marine's direction.

"……Goddamn aliens," the soldier answered, burying his face in the magazine once again.

"So, are like, all of the Flood the um……'the gay'?" Riley inquired, using air quotes.

"Wull, very much the opposite. All of the soldiers hate gays, wull, being a former Elite, that doesn't mean anything to me. I only know of two other gay guys. There's lots of violence and segregation in our microcosm. It's just the way things are."

"Ooh, that sounds rough," Riley nodded. "Who's your partner?"

"His name is Stanley. He's a human Flood. He's _really_ sexy, but he's a bit of a manwhore."

"Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"Wull, of course it does. You have no idea how frustrating it is to deal with."

"I always thought you should never cheat……" Riley shrugged.

"Good! You pass the 'good boyfriend test'," Big Pat said.

"Thanks! I don't think any good comes from it, even if the other person doesn't know."

Big Pat nodded in approval. "Good. You _should_ think that way. You'd make a good partner. I don't see why Sangs don't like you."

"Aw, thank you!" Riley said, perking up. "Hey, does anybody know what time it is?" he addressed his cellmates.

"Yah mum knows wot time ih-is!" Hanjk said thrusting his arms back and staring up at Riley, who was more than three feet taller.

"I'm a Sangheili. I don't have a 'mom'……" Riley said blankly.

"Oh……ya don't?" Hanjk asked, easing up.

Riley shook his head. "Sangheilis are only of the male gender."

"Well, you gotta dad back in yo home world?" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" inquired.

"I dunno, _maybe_……somewhere," Riley shrugged, growing more melancholy. "I never knew my biological parents. I've lived with my aunt and uncle for all of my life."

"Me too, Rye, wull sorta. I _do_ have a senile father and thousands of siblings. But nonetheless, I never had a mom. One of my minds was also a Sangheili," Big Pat explained, trying to make his friend feel better.

"Well, yeah……but your Sangheili host's parents actually _loved_ you. My parents just didn't want me. They dumped me with my relatives. Not that I don't love my aunt and uncle, because I do very much……it's just……I don't know, it doesn't feel the same."

"Ouch……now _there's_ fear of responsibility," Big Pat said.

"'M sorry Riley……I din' know," Hanjk apologized.

"Meh, don't worry about it……"

"Hey, you! The nerdy Covie……quit with the sob stories 'n shut up! You're all supposed to be _quiet_!" a new leatherneck who had relieved the other of his guard duty barked in their direction as he stood in the entrance to the detention room, clutching a shotgun.

"Okay! I have a ginormous Adam's apple and glasses, _thanks_ for reminding me! I _almost_ forgot," Riley said with much snobbery. The area got quiet as soon as Riley rolled his eyes and muttered, "sheesh". However, it didn't take long for more noise to ensue.

"……Do you think Dick van Dyke's parents named him that on purpose?" Riley asked the detention center's opinion.

The Marine actually thought this was very funny and began laughing. The other Covenant POWMIA soon joined him subtly, until he shouted for them to silence. The silence only lasted for three minutes.

"Okay, so, this one time, I was with my uncle, and we were at the market, when—"

"—Shut up!" the Marine growled. Riley shut his jaws again, everyone holding in laughter as best they could. "How many times do I gotta remind ya?!" the furious Marine shouted.

"'Ey! Tha otha guy leh us talk all we wonted!" Hanjk said, smashing the side of his face against the bars.

"Well, I'm _not_ the other guy! Rinaldi's retarded anyway," he said, pointing his shotgun back to the ground.

"You know……I figured something like this would happen, so……it's a good thing I brought this rotary phone!" Riley said, picking up a discoloured rotary phone that he had somehow placed in the corner of the cell.

"Wait, where did you get that?" the Devildog asked.

"I stole it from that desk over there when I came back from my extra credit last night……hold on, I have a call!"

"_I _didn't hear it ri—"

"—Hello? Oh hi, Mrs. Periwinkle! Oh, _sure_ I've seen your husband around……really?! You got a divorce? No wonder why he was looking a little blue!" Riley said, pretending to have a "colourful" conversation. He immediately started cracking up after he delivered the awful pun. Everyone in the detention center groaned, except for Big Pat, who started laughing, and Hanjk, who had no idea what was going on around him.

"Really, who looks through '_M_._T_._H_._B_._P_._G_._M_._E_._A_._F_._E_.'? _Real_ men read 'Hustler'……" the leatherneck continued to complain to himself.

"_Real_ men read 'PlaySang'," Riley retorted, sitting up as Big Pat gave him a high five.

"Canundrum" yelled, "go Riley!"

"P4WN'D!" (Pronounced poen-d) hollered a Grunt in the cell next to Riley's in a demonic voice.

"Y'all are goddamn queers," the irate soldier said.

"Ya know……more than sixty three percent of human males have had some fantasy or experience with same sex relationships—" Pat informed.

The leatherneck shut his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"—And doesn't this look _über_ attractive?" he said as he gestured to Hanjk's loverly etching of the naked Major Silva and the giant olde English letters that spelled out "Adidas". Hanjk, who was sitting in front of it, smiled and showed it off Vana White style.

The Marine, in question, got so fed up with his insecurity that he solemnly dragged his chair over to an opposite corner of the detention center and sat by the last cells in the row.

"Check and mate," Big Pat said as he crackled his knuckles and laughed.

"P4WN'D!" the Grunt said again.

"Smooth," Riley said with a chuckle.

"Thanks," Big Pat answered.

"Sleep well, 'Canundrum'?" Riley asked in his direction.

"Hm? Oh……meh," he said as he clicked his mandibles, "it's kinda hard to get _any_ sleep when you're a prisoner of war."

"Yeah, I had trouble takin' a nap too," Riley agreed.

"Not me," Big Pat said.

"Psh, you were out within _units_ of telling me you were napping," Riley corrected as he rolled his eyes playfully.

"What can I say? I'm used to sleeping under oppression."

Riley clicked his mandibles. "Anyone up for a game of euchre?"

"I don't know how to play," Big Pat said with a shrug.

"Yeah, I ain't familiar wit _human_ card games," "Kibbles" agreed.

"Playin' games iss reel 'ard fa me. I go a lit-el mad if I don't win," Hanjk explained.

"Yeah, you've got a point Hanjkerchief. I've seen you when you freak out. I used to play all the time with my aunt and uncle when they invited their friends over on Thursday nights, but, it's been a few ages since I've been home," Riley said.

"I'm gonna finish mah book. I'm almos' done," "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said as he picked up his novel and continued reading. Riley looked around for a second and then pointed at the Needler needle Hanjk had smuggled in.

"A'scuse me, but, are you using that one?"

"_No_! Ya _con't_ 'ave it!" Hanjk shrieked, standing over it.

Riley yelled and backed up against a wall.

"Who you think you are, nigga?!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" roared. Hanjk cowered in a corner.

Everyone heard another noise that sounded like the dry heaves. "Canundrum" spat out a human combat knife and tossed it to Riley. "Here……use this."

"Um……thanks? Sweet Georgia Brown, what _else_ you got in there?" Riley answered, quickly pulling it out of its sheath and tossing it away with subtle disgust. He turned the wall and began scratching something. Big Pat leaned over to get a good look.

"For—a—good—time……call—'Slutbucket' 'Kasamee—frequency 96.6.1," he read aloud as Riley finished.

"Yep! I've just always wanted to write something like that on a public, or at least well looked at, wall. I've seen it in so many cartoons and movies," he said with a bout of laughter.

"'Kasamee……didn't that guy try to do like, thirty five shots on his birthday a while back?" Big Pat inquired.

"Sure did. Man, that guy was puking up a storm. He was hospitalized too."

"Damn……"

"I know. You had to watch that guy around Reuasknärteg. He said he stopped drinking though. But still, I don't see how _anyone_ can drink the stuff. It tastes _soooooo_ bad," Riley said with a shudder. "I'm strictly a beer guy, myself."

"The Sangheili drink some weird shit," "Canundrum" agreed.

"I know! Sheesh, how do we come up with this stuff?"

"Wull, why did you put 'Slutbucket'? You should put something like, 'Alcoholocaust' or 'Tipback 35'," Big Pat insisted.

"But, 'Slutbucket' 'Kasamee makes him sound like an outlaw."

"I would think that something involving alcohol would make him sound a lot more like an outlaw seeing as cowboys are always drinking. It also relates to his feat of drunkenness."

"Yeah? Well……you're ugly!" Riley said with mock anger.

"I know……" Big Pat said with a disheartened tone.

"……Think they're gonna make us dig holes again?" Riley asked.

"What's stopping them?" Big Pat answered.

"Good point."

"I'm kind of a fan of 'Tipback 35' myself," "Canundrum" said aloud.

"I don't even want to hear anything out of _you_, master!" Riley said, pointing at the opposing Elite. "Canundrum" smiled and shook his head. Riley stuck his head between the bars and turned to the Marine sentry.

"A'scuse me, um, army dude?" he said.

"What _now_?"

"Um……do you think you could, um, let us out?"

"No."

"C'mon, pleez?!" he begged.

"Not gonna happen."

"Pleez, let us just _try_ it," Riley continued.

"Nope."

"……Well, then……could you just like, let _me_ out?"

The Marine looked at his digital watch, then at the clock set up on the desk near the main entrance to the narrow room.

"Actually, _yeah_……I'll letcha out," the burly soldier said shiftily.

"OhmyProphetsareyouserious?!" Riley said quickly.

"Yep," he answered as he jerked the heavily barred door to the overzealous Elite's cell and dragged him out. Riley held out his wrists, smiling. The Marine, holding a pair of shackles, stared at the alien with heavy disbelief. Riley jerked his hands once, insisting the Marine bind him, with the same stupid grin. He chained the alien's wrists together and led him up the tiny flight of stairs and out of the detention center.

"Ha, ha guys! I get to go outsy-ide! I get to go outsy-ide!" they all heard him chanting excitedly, his annoying voice echoing in the chamber.

There was complete silence in the detention center.

"Dead man walkin'," the Grunt called "Gangrene" said.

"Poor kid," "Canundrum" answered.

Riley 'Bodensee was jostled down a familiar path of human corridors. He and his Marine escort passed many bustling soldiers and many doors, but nothing similar to the way to the outside world he and his other Covenant POWs had been through when they went to work.

"Hey……this doesn't look like the way outside," Riley said with a curious tone.

"That's because yer really not goin' _outside_," the human answered.

"……I could tell, because it doesn't smell like freedom," Riley said, lowering his head. He raised his head again to continue observing the area. Elite-watching, or in this case people-watching, was something that Riley had become very fond of over the years. None of the other Elites back in his city would ever play with him when he was younger, so he had to find various activities to do all by his lonesome. Sad, I know.

"I like what you've done with your hair," he said to a soldier who was cleaning his assault weapon. The response was a "what the hell are you talking about?" expression, seeing as he was sporting the average Marine crew cut.

"See, it's funny," Riley said over his shoulder as he started laughing, "because you barely have any at all!"

"Shut up, Covenant bastard!" another soldier hollered.

"I love you, too!" Riley answered.

It wasn't long before he was pushed through the same door he had been through the previous day. Only Lieutenant McKay was present this time.

"The man-woman, the man-woman, the man-woman!" Riley shouted jubilantly as he was forced into the same uncomfortable human chair.

McKay looked thoroughly unpleased.

"Hi, man-woman!" Riley said one last time before closing his jaws.

"Hello, blue-boy," she answered bitterly.

"Okay now, I don't want any armouracial slurs," Riley stated.

"Whatever. So, are you ready to talk like a civilized soldier today?" she asked, leaning up against Silva's desk.

Riley looked around with concern. "Hey, where's the other guy? Where'd Colonel Mustard go?"

"That's really none of your business."

"Oh-_kay_, if you _insist_," Riley said in a valley-girl tone.

"All right then. I'll try once more. Do you know anything at all about a Covenant weapons cache _supposedly_ stored in a large structure in the middle of a swamp?" she inquired.

"Do you have another detention centers in this place?" Riley answered.

"Yes."

"Who's in there? Like, gimme some names."

"'Qualomee, 'Ludomee—"

"Okay, now, provided he's not dead, 'Qualomee is the one to ask about these kinds of things."

"What do you mean 'provided he's not dead'?" McKay questioned.

"Well, the guy's like the biggest heroin-bob in the universe and he's got at least two flasks on him at all times. But uh, yeah, he's the one to talk to about weapons. He's a weapons tech."

"He wouldn't talk when we tried to get some info yesterday."

"Was he conscious?" Riley asked.

McKay said nothing.

"Ah _ha_," he said with a chuckle. "See, when humans are unconscious they're all 'gyehgk'," he said as he sprawled in the chair and role-played passing out. "But when the Sangheili are unconscious, they just look like they're trying to sleep with their eyes open. And their pupils are like, really, really thin, like a cat. Like, you almost can't see them. That's also the same way they look when they, um, die, but—"

"—I see," McKay said.

"Well, that's all I can tell you. If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times, I don't know anything about no 'weapons cache'. I was just forced to start fighting yesterday," Riley explained.

"All right then. I'm sorry this was so short, but, I have a nap to take. Take him back to his detention cell," McKay instructed one of Marine as he grabbed a hold of the Elite and pulled him out of the room.

On his way back to the detention center, Riley noticed that there were a lot of human soldiers that were in a hurry, many of them sprinting in the same direction.

"What's with all of the brouhaha, Private?" he asked the Marine.

"Interceptin' a sur-spicious dropship," he answered. "All I have ta worry 'bout is makin' sure you and yer little buddies don't get off nowhere."

"Lucky you," Riley said.

"All right, git inside," he said as he opened the heavy door and ushered Riley in his cell. He slammed the door after him.

"Thank you for not kicking, shoving, or beating me inside," Riley said sincerely with a nod.

"Whatever," the leatherneck answered. He looked over to the right corner of the cell, where Big Pat was lying on the cold floor.

"So, what the hell are _you _supposed to be?" he sneered, feeling he could make up for lost bodily harm on Riley with emotional harm on the other creature.

"Are you talkin' to me?" Big Pat answered, acknowledging him.

"Yeah, you……are you some kind of zombie thing?"

"……_What_ did you just call me?!" Big Pat said, sitting up.

"I asked if you was some kinda zombie thing, cuz ya look like one. Ya know, one of them zombie things from like, 'Evil House 2'."

"Oh man, that house is _so_ evil," another Marine agreed.

"……Do you wanna repeat that?!"

"_Zombie_ _thing_?"

That did it. Being called a "thing" is something that Patrick _did not_ take lightly, however, none of the survivors who captured Big Pat warned the other soldiers about that little detail. He started breathing heavily and menacingly as he watched the leatherneck crack up.

"_NOBODY CALLS ME _'_A THING_'!" he shouted as he charged the door to the cell, throwing all of his weight against it. The soldier immediately stopped laughing and cocked the shotgun he had slung over his shoulder. The second ram was enough to make the ancient bars give way and release the infuriated Flood. He wrestled the shotgun out of the Marine's grasp, threw it aside, and tackled him to the ground. Furiously delivering devastating headshots to the fallen soldier, Big Pat roared in defiance until the Marine's skull had caved in.

"Da-yum nigga!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" shouted as he tore the rest of the wall of bars away. "What da hell do ya think ya doin'?!"

"'Jer-ree! 'Jer-ree!" Yayap chanted the name of the infamous staged Sangheili relationship-issue talk show host with much amusement.

"Whoa……" Riley said, too speechless to move.

"……Borstal Breakout!" Hanjk yelled as he jumped out of the cell.

"Hey, Patrick! Lemme out!" "Canundrum" said. Without acknowledging the Elite, Big Pat scooped up the shotgun, reloaded it, and ran hollering out of the detention center.

"If you want something done, you gotta do it youself," he sighed. He began dry heaving again and spat out a key ring and unlocked his own cell.

"'Canundrum'? Why didn't you just do that earlier?" Riley inquired.

"Eh, I like to make things interesting," "Canundrum" answered.

"You're a very mysterious Sang," Riley concluded with a nod and a smile. With that, he tore after the raging Flood. "Wait, Pat!" Riley called after him as he headed up the same flight of stairs, only to run smack into the last Elite he thought he would see there, Special Operatives warrior Zuka 'Zamamee.

"Oh……hey, Zuka. What are um, what are you doing here?" Riley asked bashfully.

"……Oh, hello, 'Bodensee. I rather figured you would end up here……or dead," he answered, gently pushing him aside and entering the detention center. "Come to think of it, I am really impressed that you are still _alive_."

"Really?!" Riley asked excitedly.

"Indeed."

_He likes me_, Riley thought to himself.

"Oh! 'Bodensee," 'Zamamee said, turning back to him. His trapped assistant, Yayap, was reaching out for his arm behind the barred door.

"_Yes_?" he answered, sidling closer to him.

"You have been here a while……have you seen the one soldier with the special armour?"

"Um," he answered. Truthfully, he had not seen the individual since yesterday, but he wanted to hang out with the object of his affection and he figured answering "yes" would give him a chance to hang out with 'Zamamee.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I _did_ see him!"

"Really?! Well, show me where he is!" 'Zamamee ordered as Yayap finally got a hold of him and started yanking him against the cell door to get his attention. He pulled his arm away from the Grunt and gave him a foul glare as he continued to listen to Riley.

"Well……I'll be back in a second, I have to go find my homicidal buddy!" he said as he dashed up the stairs, pushing two out of five commando Elites out of the way.

"'Bodensee! I do not have time for—" but Riley was already gone.

Landing Pad 3 was in complete and utter chaos. Energy bolts sliced through the air, plasma grenades detonated in every direction, and groins were kicked by invisible boots. The unwelcome landing party had been contained, for a little while, but threatened to break out and spread to neighbouring pads.

Silva, wanting to be the hero, gallantly torn off his uniform and undershirt "Hulk" style, grabbed an assault weapon, and ran full fledged into battle screaming, "dreams are for schoolgirls!"

All the members of the crash team, half of the medics, and a third of the reaction team were already pushing up daisies by the time Lieutenant McKay arrived at the scene, because you know, she thought it would be okay if she took a nap during a combat situation.

"Quick! Put up the baby-gates! Do it! Do it because I said so!" Silva roared.

It was an odd order. Anyone outside the armed forces would have questioned, because five hundred years in the future, rebellion still hadn't gone out of style, but the soldiers did exactly as they were told, because that's what they do. A group of Naval ratings ran towards a supply closet hidden in the shadows, opened it, and pulled out several yards of the plastic gates used to keep infants and dogs out of rooms.

The air surrounding a floodlit area to his right seemed to almost shimmer and Silva took the opportunity to unload a full clip into the ghostly haze.

"Life is as extreme as you wanna make it!" he hollered as an Elite screamed in pain. His active camouflage flickered on and off as he fell in a heap on the floor. "Taco Bell, think outside the bun!" he yelled again as he slammed the butt of his weapon into the side of another commando's head.

Undeterred by their close calls with death and the inscrutable battle cries of the Major, the ratings ran around the perimeter of the pad and worked as hastily but efficiently as they could to contain the enemy. A Covenant maintenance crew had worked hard to build a resistance to the gate, but it was unsuccessful. The Navy crew had run baby-gate drills like this before in case of a tot breakout or cases like _this_ invasion.

"……I've run out of potential battle-cries!" Silva hollered as he triggered a grenade, which he threw into a mess of alien soldiers. There was a loud explosion as he pounded towards the gate that was now finished and leaped over it. It was an off white and stood roughly three feet high.

Just as a group of Elites were about to rush toward Silva and the surviving Marine, they stopped in front of the gate and everyone looked down at it.

"_Aw_, _man_!" the squad leader yelled, whipping his plasma rifle at the ground in frustration.

"What _is_ that thing?!" another inquired.

"I think it is some sort of human barrier. We cannot break through it!" a sub-commander said, pounding on it with a fist.

Amidst the complaining and whining of the Covenant, Silva turned to McKay. "Show time," he said aggressively. "This was a little more than a kiddie-corral."

McKay shook her head and looked at him with a heart full of pain. "……No."

"Okay, scratch the pun. But we've got bigger things to worry about—"

"—Metaphors?" McKay inquired.

"_No_, damn it! Six inbound Covenant dropships, if 'Ellsley has it correct—"

"—I _told_ you. You interrupted me while I was practicing for tonight's gig. My data may not be exact," he said over the intercom.

"Damn it, 'Ellsley! You're _not_ Duke Ellington! Stop this façade or I'll make McKay get out 'VirtuaSexXx 2500'!"

The Lieutenant shuddered.

"All right then, before I was _so rudely interrupted_……they obviously can't land _here_, but they'll try for the mesa. You take the mesa—_I'll_ handle the remaining pads," he instructed.

"Yes, sir," McKay nodded. She spotted Sergeant Lister and waved him over.

"Round up the rest of my men and tell them to dig in up-spin of the landing pad and get ready for an attack on the mesa. Let's give the—" she paused mid-sentence. "—Nevermind. Just hop to it."

Sergeant Lister glanced at the baby-gates and then back at McKay, looking downtrodden, like he was hoping for her to also make some terrible pun. "Yes ma'am," he said as he sprinted away.

"That was a close one," McKay told herself, thinking about just how close she came to spitting out another horrible pun similar to Silva's. Major Silva was one of those leaders that rubbed off on _everyone_ whether they liked it or not. It was McKay's personal mission to be the one who survived with her own personality intact.

Riley had cautiously scampered through the panicky and distressed hallways of Alpha Base. He had been searching for Big Pat, who ran off in a frenzy after being insulted by the Marine guard. Twelve minutes of searching and he still found nothing similar to an enraged Flood.

"Patrick! Oh, Patrick! Yoo-Who! Olly, olly oxen free!" he yelled, peering into different rooms and looking under desks. As he turned a corner, a frightened Naval Tech ran right into him. As the startled human regained his footing, Riley held out his arms in a challenge.

"Yo man, why you gotta get all up in mah grill?!" he axed. The Techie screamed in terror and tore down the rest of the hall.

"I'm a cowardly fool!" the Elite heard his voice echo.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" he shouted after him. "I lose most of my friends that way," he sighed to himself, choosing the left over the right hall.

He didn't have to venture far before coming to a large metal door. He heard voices from inside, angry voices. He pressed the side of his head to it for a second. One of the voices sounded familiar. He gingerly took a hold of the handle and pushed the door open. Inside, he saw Big Pat arguing with another Flood about two feet shorter than he was. They sounded like a middle-aged married couple and it sort of reminded him about his aunt and his uncle. Not wanting to get too lost in his own nostalgia, he cleared his throat and decided to try and break up the controversy.

"Um, a'scuse me?"

"_WHAT_?!" both of the Floods yelled in unison as they turned to face Riley.

"……Um, Pat?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Riley. This _he_-_bitch_ here is putting our escape on hold!" Big Pat said in the other Flood's direction.

"If I've explained it to you once, I've explained it a million times, _I wasn't doing anything_!"

"Oh, right—you were alone in a prison cell with another guy Flood. I'm to expect you _weren't_ doing anything?! It's the perfect recipe for disaster!"

"Is this your boyfriend?" Riley asked cheerfully, trying to help break the argument.

"Stanley—Riley, Riley—Stanley," Big Pat said unenthusiastically.

"How ya doin'," Stanley said with a sharp nod.

"Hi! Um, I really hate to ruin you guys's moment, but……we kinda need to get back to the detention center because I told _my_ boyfriend I would show him where that one soldier guy was, and……the other door in there is the only way I know how to escape from," he said with a grin.

"Hey, you're gay too?" Stanley asked.

"My race only has one gender. We're all males," Riley answered.

"_Whoa_……a planet with _only_ guys……kinkaaaaaay," Stanley answered, putting much emphasis on the second vowel.

"Oh sure, why don't you just go and sleep with _Riley_,_ too_?" Big Pat said.

"Whoa now!" Riley said.

"—Are we leaving now?" the Jenkins Flood questioned joyously, standing in the doorway to the Flood confinement room.

Big Pat gave a grunt of disapproval, pushed him back in the cell, and slammed the door.

"Whadja do _that_ for?" Stanley said.

"Do you want to _join him_ or do you wanna get out of here?" Big Pat asked angrily.

"Hey, hey! Will ya let me out too?" they heard someone else say. Pat and Stanley turned around and noticed the hysterical Flood who was bolted to an iron table.

"Leave him……he's one of those fascist pigs," Stanley said, making his way to the door where Riley stood.

"No, no I'm not! Please? _Please_?! Let me out! They'll make me turn my head and cough!" he said this at such a voulme that his voice produced an echo. Both Floods exited and Riley shut the door behind them.

They arrived back at the detention center a few minutes later. Two commandos were playing "Red Hands", one was looking at a plasma grenade and chuckling to himself, the other two where having a staring contest, and Zuka was leaning up against a cell looking thoroughly bored. Hanjk and "Kibbles" were conversing about some topic that no one really cared about.

"Hey, gangstas, I'm back! And I found my buddy!" Riley announced as he entered the room. 'Zamamee's commandos took one look at the two Floods and screamed bloody murder.

"Oh God, not again," Big Pat said, shaking his head.

"Shut up!" Stanley said. All of the Elites did so immediately. "That's right, or I'll……gnaw off your arms and uh, suck out your brains through your spines!" he said in a forced creepy voice.

"Get away from us, devils!" one commando shouted, raising his plasma rifle.

"'Bodensee! You are actually _acquainted_ with these, these _monsters_?!" 'Zamamee axed.

"Hey! What did I say about the racial slurs?"

"Nothing," 'Zamamee answered.

"Well……don't racial slur! We're all in this together! And yes, they are my friends. They _understand_ me. Unlike _you Sangs_," Riley sneered, folding his arms across his scrawny chest.

"'Bodensee, even the most _complex_ life form would not be able to understand you," 'Zamamee added.

"May_be_," Riley said.

"Moving on. I must take my team and find the human with the special armour. _Now_ will you tell me where he—"

"—Oh, you're talking about the 'Incredible Dr. Anthrax'! I _love_ him! Sweet guy. A little on the quiet side, but, you know……when you've got a helmet like that to sneeze in without being able to take it off, you kinda—"

"—Wait, _what_? You are acquainted with _him_ as well?!" 'Zamamee inquired, highly interested.

"Oh sure! He's the one that took me hostage!" Riley said enthusiastically with a bunch of machine-gun laughter.

"You have a really weird laugh," one of the commandos said.

"Then tell me where he is!" 'Zamamee demanded.

"Oh, oh! I know where he is, Excellency, pick me!" Yayap said, jumping up and down while raising his hand as he stood next to the Elite.

"Oh, um……I don't really—"

"—You do not know," 'Zamamee growled angrily. "I was expecting this! Can _anyone_ rely on you for _anything_?!""

"But I! You. We. I'm sorry……it's just—"

"—Why did you lie to me?!"

"Zuka, it's just……I thought……I thought if I lied, we'd get to hang out, and you would—"

"—'Bodensee! I _do not_ have time to for this! I am on a _very_ important, Prophet-blessed mission! Can you fathom _just how dangerous_ this alien is?!"

"Excellency! I know where he is!" Yayap insisted.

"All right! If I let you have say, will you shut your face?!" 'Zamamee growled.

"……Yes."

"Very well then, shoot."

"He was assigned to guard several of our stolen Banshees."

"Where are they located?"

"Out on the mesa."

"What's going on?" Stanley whispered to Big Pat.

"I'm still not talking to you……" he said snobbishly as he turned away. Stanley threw his arms up in surrender.

"Very well……" 'Zamamee turned back to Riley. "Look, I must carry out with my mission. There are six dropships on the way. Take the rest of the warriors and jump aboard one when the time comes. Be wary though, the place is crawling with human vermin. Do you understand?"

"……Yes, sir," Riley said bluntly.

"Excellent, no defiance. Oh, and, 'Bodensee?"

"Hm?"

"……I am sorry I raised my voice. I am just……this mission is—"

"—I accept your apology," Riley said with a smile.

"Thanks……good luck."

"_Now_ can I touch your muscles?"

"_No_!" 'Zamamee barked as he led his team out of the detention center.

"Bye, boyfriend!" he hollered after the team.

"_I am not your boyfriend_!" he heard the irate officer answer.

Riley sighed heavily. "What a Sang……"

"Um, Riley? How long are we to wait down here? I mean, don't you think a team of humans is about to charge in here any moment? And the commandos informed us of the heavy fighting and the fact that a landing pad's _on fire_. Not to mention the slaughter that will take place outside this base in a matter of units," "Canundrum" inquired.

"Sheesh, 'Canundrum', talk about pessimistic……but, we're _not gonna_ wait for one of _those_ dropships," Riley said, taking out his communications gear from his battle harness that a Marine had hung on the wall with the other Covenant supplies to keep out of their reach.

"What do you mean?" "Canundrum" questioned further.

"We're gonna get our _own_ ride," Riley said with a grin.

"Canundrum" and Hanjk exchanged confused glances as Riley cleared his throat and spoke into his radio.

"This is 'Blue Leader RB-12-4-2526' contacting Dropship Nhezierd, do you read Dropship Nhezierd?" he said in a voice much lower than his own.

Everyone heard static and then a nasally voice came over the frequency.

"That's a big 10-4 Riley, what's yer current position, I don't have _too_ much time…..."

"We are currently stationed at the human base up-top the big rock thingy."

"But, six other ships are supposed to be headed that way. They should be there really—"

"—Juliano……three weeks. _Three_ _weeks_……"

"……How many soldiers do you have with you……?"

"I've got—" Riley paused to do a quick head count. "—I've got ten unarmed prisoners, not counting myself, and trying to make it out of this structure alive is a highly unfeasible task."

"……All right, all right, I'll come pick you up. Where should I expect you guys to be……?"

"Go around to the back of the structure. There's a door to a back area that should be little or non-occupied. It's got a bunch of graves, you can't miss it."

"Okay then. Dropship Nhezierd out……" they heard the other voice fizzle out.

Riley put away his radio and did an elaborate "snap, point" gesture at the other prisoners. "How do ya like _them_ apples?" he said with a laugh.

"Wow, Riley. I didn't think ya 'ad it in ya," Hanjk said.

"Shush, Hanjkerchief! You never say the 'H's' in your words!" Riley said.

Hanjk pouted.

"Good thinking, Riley. How long until the dropship arrives?" "Canundrum" axed.

"Juliano should be here in about, oh……say, ten units," Riley answered.

"Units? What the hell is that?" Stanley questioned.

"Oh, it's the Covenant 'minute' and it's also used for every measurement involving length."

"Doesn't that ever get confusing?"

"Nope! Watch," Riley said with a grin. "Hey, 'DuranDuran', how many units are in one age?"

"Five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred units," he answered.

"And 'Canundrum', how tall is the average Sangheili?"

"Eight units six."

"See?"

"Psh, whatever," Stanley answered.

"All right then. Since we've got everything settled, let's make our way outside. Stick together, because it's easy to get lost and we don't want anyone to get locked up again," Riley said as he and "Canundrum" led the way out of the detention center.

Although pre-occupied with his own mission, 'Zamamee had been diligently watching the command net, and was fully aware that the assault had been stalled. He figured it was only time before the dropships arrived at the butte and came to pick up any soldier who could crawl, limp, or sprint to them.

The option of dropping his mission, finding a way to slip through the human lines, and get back to one of their aircrafts was sounding like a very sweet idea, until the session with the Prophet that had taken place before the raid still haunted him. The best, no, strike that……the _only_ chance was to find the special human and kill him. He would not be sold into slavery or executed and perhaps he could receive another promotion. This thought made 'Zamamee smile as he thought about the fact that he hardly remembered what happened the night he was promoted to Special Operatives warrior. All would be forgiven……or would it? Many soldiers had fallen in the raid and the special armoured human was no where to be found.

Focusing on the former of the two thoughts, he drove his crew on.

The commandos were up on the first level by then. One of three guard Marines noticed their presence on his motion tracker and wildly opened fire in the direction they were coming from.

It was complete pandemonium as Marines ran through clip after clip of ammo and the Elites, startled, fired in every direction, but soon started to fall.

'Zamamee felt his plasma rifle cycle as it attempted to cool itself off and figured he was about to be torn to pieces, but low and behold, Yayap (who had been feeling awfully lucky that particular day) yelled, "m0rk3d! You meat sacks!" threw a plasma grenade into the squad of humans, and it latched to a Private's arm.

"Aw, butter biscuits!" he yelled, flailing his arm wildly, trying to shake the sticky grenade off. The explosion, needles to say, slaughtered the whole fire team.

"Hm," 'Zamamee said, looking down at the bloodstained corner where the humans had perished, not wanting to admit that Yayap had yet again, saved his life.

"Oh yeah! Yayap one, humans none! You got _burned_! That was a _serious burn_! Burn……" Yayap said, his high-pitched, irritating Grunt voice echoing through the room.

"……Are you finished?" 'Zamamee asked bluntly.

"…..Yeah," Yayap replied. He quickly surveyed the area and then tugged on 'Zamamee's battle harness, pointing at a door. "This way, Excellency……follow me!"

The Elite rolled his eyes but did so. The Grunt led the officer through the door, down a walkway, and onto the platform where there were indeed ten captured Banshees waiting in an orderly row. Not surprisingly, there were zero guards present.

Yayap noticed the officer's clawed hands tighten into fists. _Uh oh_, he thought as he heard the roar of a dropship as it flew over them and continued on.

"You lied to me, you little mangy cur! _Why_?!" he shouted. "Why does everyone lie to me?!"

"Because _you_ know how to fly one of these things and _I_ don't," Yayap countered.

"So?! What does that have to do with anything?! I should shoot you, throw you off this precipice, and leave your body for the humans to perform complex orgies with!"

Yayap thought about what they would look and feel like and _didn't_ like the outcome at all. Deciding that this was the day of uprising, he stood as tall as he could and faced the Elite. "If you make any hostile actions, everyone will see _this_," he said as he pressed a panel on his wrist readout and a small image hovered a few centimeters from his wrist.

"Special Operatives Officer Zuka 'Zamamee: Battle Log Entry Number Gissierddnuiewztrednuhierd," Yayap began.

'Zamamee's eyes widened and he clenched his fists tighter. "How—did—you—get—that?!" he demanded.

"Gee, perhaps _next time_ you'll be more selective of the information you let me hold for you. If I press this panel here, _everyone_ in your squad and all of your superiors will receive it. Can you imagine what would become of your reputation once they figure out that you have a secret crush on……_Riley 'Bodensee_?!"

There was nothing the officer could do. He _had_ given the information bit to his accomplice. He had brought this on himself. If even _one_ Elite figured out who he was infatuated with, all would indeed be lost. Even 'Zamamee was aware of this.

The Elite nodded. "Very well……have it your way," he growled. Moments later, they slipped into one of the Banshees. It wobbled off of the edge of the butte and began to lose altitude.

_Of course_……_it is Monday_, 'Zamamee thought as they disappeared into the darkness.

The battle for Alpha Base was finished, but it _still_ sounds like an intense band or album name.

By now, Captain Keyes had become very acquainted with Flood interrogation antics. Several different Schützstaffeln officers had tried several different methods on him, but nothing seemed to be of any avail.

Ivan clenched his fists and was about to protest further when another Flood Schützstaffel officer stormed inside the control chamber.

"Commanders!" he said, very out of breath. "Sieg Flood!" he continued erecting his left arm.

"Yes, Officer Crewes?" Jared said, nodding off his salute.

"I came as quickly as I could. There was an intruder back at the base!"

"My name is Captain Keyes and _finally_, good going, Chief! My name is Captain Keyes, love that boy like a son, would trade Miranda for him almost any day," he admitted.

"Quiet, _human_! But he's not _just_ a human soldier……he's one of those 'Spartans' you've told us about, Commander Ivan!"

"What?!" both Commanders said in unison, of course, with Jared's speech impediment, it sounded half like "what?!" and half like "wort?!"

"Everything is in full blown chaos! Sirs, you must return to the lair ASAP!" the officer explained. Ivan looked both shocked and infuriated. Jared's reaction wasn't very strong.

Captain Keyes felt a sickening sensation as he thought about his Marines back at Alpha Base. Silva, McKay, Johnson, the one Naval officer who always cried everytime Jupiter's moon Ganymede was mentioned……all of them dead and alive. The feelings of hopelessness and dread increased as he realized there was little to nothing he could do to warn them.

Commanders Ivan and Jared both shouldered their rifles, loaded up on stolen ammunition, and turned back to the overworked officer.

"Take us brack trew the lair," Commander Jared ordered. The officer saluted once more and the party headed out a door. "Wait! Whose growing trew watch the prisroner and crontinue with the intrerrogration?" Jared said, turning around at the last moment.

"……Oh……I think I know _just the soldier_ who can help us," Ivan chuckled deviously.

"Who?" Jared questioned.

Ivan grinned cheekily as he took up his radio. "……Officer Kristallnacht?"

There was static before an answer. "Yes, sir?"

"Are you busy at the moment? Any skirmishes? Ambushes?"

"None whatsoever, sir. It's been fairly quiet around here. Anything that's movin' is already bein' takin' care of by other teams."

"Good, good. Listen, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

In the background, the Commander could hear an effeminant voice say, "is that Commander Ivan? Tell him that I said for me to say 'hi'!"

"Is Officer Nuremberg still alive?"

"……Unfortunately, yes."

"Excellent. Put him on," Ivan requested.

"Hey! What's goin' on, Commander? Sieg Flood! I'm saluting, you just can't see," Nuremberg said.

"You're such a good soldier. Anyway, I'm doing fine. I heard your patrol is going well?"

"Sure is! Me and the other guys are having a _great_ time! We're having some _seriously_ ladytimes!"

"Sounds delightful. Listen, could you do me a huge, enormous, gigantic favour?"

"Sure! What do you need, sir?"

"Well, I've got an important prisoner up in the control center and he's not talking."

"Okay."

"Now, Jared and I need to run back the base to……see some company out," Ivan explained with much distaste.

"Okay."

"So, long story short, I need someone with your charm to come up here and try to weasel some information out of him. Do that for me, please?" Ivan asked sweetly.

"Sure! No problem! It might take me a few more minutes to get back there, though. Bradley was leading the way and I'm sure _he's_ the only one who actually knows where he's going," Nuremberg said with a laugh.

"You know what? Bring the others back with you. I want them to accompany us to the base. I'll be waiting," Ivan said, switching his radio off. "I didn't know Kristallnacht's first name was Bradley. I've just called him by his last name."

"Yep, it's Bradley, all right," Jared said. Ivan shrugged.

Captain Keyes studied the amused look the human Flood gave him and tried to figure out if the next stage of his interrogation was going to be a bad thing or a moderately bad thing.

Officer Nuremberg showed up roughly fourteen minutes later with the squad he had left with.

"What's up Commanders? Sieg Flood!" Nuremberg said jovially as he and the rest of the soldiers saluted upon seeing him.

"Excellent. You see that man over there, Nuremberg?" Ivan asked, approaching the officer and putting an arm around his waist.

"Yep, the one tied to the chair?"

"Just the one. He's the one you need to talk to. Do what ever you can to get information out of him. He's a higher-ranking human."

"I'll do my best, mein Führer!"

"Terrific. The rest of you……you are to accompany Jared and me to the base. Officer Crewes informed us that there's been a slight invasion by a heavily-armed human. Move out!" Ivan ordered, taking up his Sniper Rifle. "Don't leave this room empty-handed……" he growled to Nuremberg and then disappeared through the door with the others in tow.

"We're leaving the ship too early, Commander. What of the bomb?" Officer Crewes asked quietly Jared as they both hung back for a moment.

"We'll thrink of somethring. We'd bretter frind our Crovenant explosrives exprert sroon," he answered, exiting. Keyes had to strain to hear them.

"We're gonna have _so_ much fun!" Nuremberg explained excitedly to Captain Keyes.

The Master Chief fired the last of "the Clyde's" rounds into a combat form shouting the word "deluge" hysterically. It made a gross noise of pain and slammed to the metal floor.

After wandering aimlessly through subterranean chambers and tunnels for what seemed like ages, he finally found a lift to the surface.

As the lift sailed upward, the reassuring tone of Foehammer's voice crackled onto his comm. system.

"_This is Echo four niiiiiineteen_. _Is that you_,_ Chief_? _I lost your signal when you disappeeeaaared inside that structure_._ What is going on down there_?_ I'm tracking movement aaaaaall over the place_!"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Spartan answered grimly. "But trust me……you don't want to know. Be advised: Captain Keyes is missing, most likely SIA. Over."

"_Raaahhhger that_. _Sorry to hear about it_,_ over_."

The lift jerked to a halt, the Chief stepped off, and found himself surrounded by Marines. Not the shambling, violent, Nazi-esque combat forms he had encountered earlier. An enormous relief.

"Oh my God!" a Corporal said, dropping to his knees, grabbing the Master Chief around the legs, and hanging on for dear life. "We're so glad you're here, WE'RE SO GLAD YOU'RE HERE!" he laughcried.

"Um……yeah. I'm glad you feel this way, but there's no time for shenanigans, Marine," he said, gently kicking him off.

The young Marine half regained his composure and then began talking. "After we lost contact, we headed for the RV point, and those _things_……they ambushed us! Sir: Advise we get the hell outta here, PDQ!" he lost it and began laughcrying once again.

"That's command thinking, Corporal—"

"—Dude, that's _duh_ thinking," a Private said.

The Spartan turned and faced the loudmouthed Private. "……Let's go then," he ordered harshly.

"Sir, yes sir! Right away!" the leatherneck gulped, not wanting to piss off the seven foot tall Spartan super-soldier anymore.

It was a short walk up the ramp and back into the rain. Strangely, it felt very good to be back in the damp, humid swamp. _Very_ good indeed.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER UMPTEENTH **

**D+ 60:33:54 (Flight Offi-siiiiiiiiiiiiir Captain Rawley Mission Clock)/**

**Pelican Echo 419, above Covenant arms caaaaaaaaaaaache**

**(Well?)**

**(wat?)**

**(Don't you have something stupid or asinine to say?)**

**(uh no, not now)**

**(……Cool)**

**( XP )**

"_Mastaaaaaah Chief_,_ there's a large tower a few hundred meters from your curraaaaaant position_._ But you're gonna have ta find another waaaaaay around all the fog and fooh-leeeeee-edge and get to it so I can pick you up_!" Rawley said. Figuring it would take even SPARTAN-117 and a group of grounders a while to get through the swamp, she picked up an old issue of "Ebony".

"_Roger that_," the Chief replied, "_We're on our way_."

Eager to find the dropship and get the hell out of there, the Marines searched diligently through the thick, muggy swamp. The Spartan cautioned them to slow up a bit and keep their eyes peeled, but, UNSC Marines listen about as well as three year olds and he soon found himself in the middle of their pack.

The tower Foehammer had mentioned came into view ahead. The base of it was circular with rounded supports that protruded from the sides. Even from their position, he could make out the same two leaders painted on the sides of the structure.

_The bastards certainly love their leaders_, the Master Chief thought as he gazed at the murals.

"Contact!" one of the leathernecks yelled as he took off from the front of the team hollering, ran in a huge circle in the calf-deep water, and returned to his position.

A team of red dots appeared on the Chief's HUD and then he took notice of the wave of infection forms scrambling into view. He knew that the possibility of trying to get rid of them in the underground were completely void now. There were many enemies creatures in the area, but the main threat were the sentries posted in the trees. Chain turrets and snipers set forth a devastating barrage of bullets upon the humans. The Chief turned his attention to the baddies in the branches to make life a little easier for the Marines. After firing a few bursts into the artillery above, the Chief turned to tackle a group of combat forms. An infected Elite carrying a plasma pistol was closest to him, but chose to throw itself at him other than shoot. It was literally centimeters from the Chief when his automatic rifle bursts finally put it down. He was further examining the combat form's armband when he heard a thrum of static in the MJOLNIR's powerful communications gear. The signal was extremely hard to pick up and it sounded like Foehammer, but he wasn't sure.

Another squad of hostiles tried again to overcome the Marines, but fell back into the water and regrouped. About a dozen odd looking mechanisms came into view, hovering quite a few meters in the air.

"What _are_ those things?!" a soldier hollered.

"Hang on, soldier……let's see what these things do," the Master Chief suggested, placing his hand on the young Marine's rifle and lowering it.

What happened next was both astonishing and gratifying. Each of the machines produced a red beam and began to burn down the hostiles. The group heard the monsters screaming, "Junkers!" repeatedly as they all took off in different directions or took giant leaps and tried to take them down.

Despite the new help, the Marines still didn't fare too well, and fell victim to their own mortality. The squad dwindled down to a pair of PFCs, then one, and then the last soldier was overtaken by a mass of infection forms.

The robots began to rain their lasers upon another group of combat forms as the Master Chief waded through the water. His objective: Get to the top of the structure. The idea of higher ground and a chance to signal Foehammer was turning him on.

He began climbing a supporting beam and pulled himself onto one of the odd terraces. A combat form was waiting for him as he stood and pointed his turret at him. The Chief ducked and shoved the monster off of the terrace and he landed in the murky water below.

He tried to radio again, but no luck, just more static.

The Spartan heard a noise that sounded like someone humming and turned behind him to see where he thought the noise was originating from. He was rewarded with the sight of _another_ machine coming his way. This one was spherical with a blue, orb-like center, not similar to the angular, winged robots that had offered their services to the Marines. It spoke with a cheerful, businesslike manner.

"_Greetings_! _I am the Monitor of installation zero_-_four_._ I am 343 Guilty Spark_._ Someone has released the Flood_. _My function is to prevent it from leaving this installation_._ I require your assistance_. _Come this way_."

After realizing that 343 was an artificial function, he could see the outline of Foehammer's Pelican dropping down slowly from the foggy canopy.

"Hold on," the Chief replied. "The Flood? Those things are called Flood?"

"_Or you could call them 'Nazi Zombies' as I have been accustom to when bored_," the little machine said. "_However_,_ we have no time for inane inquiries_._ Come with me_,_ Reclaimer_," it continued.

"But I—"

"—_No_._ You are my bitch now_."

He was about to chew the curious machine out for the disrespect, but soon, white and gold bands of light appeared and pulsed the length of his body. He felt light-headed and saw an explosion of white light.

"This is taking _a lot_ longer than ten units," Riley said in a peeved monotone as he looked at his small posse relaxing behind Alpha Base. Nerdy features set in an angry, motherly expression, he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "C'mon, Juliano! We ain't got time!" There had been a raging battle before, no one knew if more soldiers would arrive, and nightfall had already arrived.

"Yeah, Riley……where's da dropship ya promised?" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" asked.

"Yeah! Ya didn't stiff us, didja?!" Hanjk demanded.

"_No_! Seriously, like, give it another five units," Riley said defensively.

"We've already given it like, a fillion units!" "Gangrene" pointed out.

"Wull, you can't _blame_ him! I mean, the guy has to go out of his way to come and get us, and, there's that huge battle going on here," Riley pleaded.

"Everyone's just unsettle and whiny. Don't worry about it Riley," "Canundrum" said from his seat in front of the back door with Riley. He placed an arm around his shoulders.

"Thanks 'Canundrum'. See?! Why can't you guys be cool like him?!"

"Oh! By da way, Riley. I thought up a prison name for ya!" "Kibbles" said.

"Oh? What I am?"

"You know how you told us about the time the Prophets was spyin' on ya when ya got really wasted?"

"Oh yes……good times, _good_ times."

"Well, yer 'TerroriZOR' now! Like da Sang forty ounce!"

"NO WAY. AWESOME!" Riley replied with much enthusiasm. "TerroriZOR" happens to be a Sangheili beer. It also happens to be the most widely consumed because of its cheap price and large size.

The posse waited another five units, and sure enough, the U-shaped dropship turned a sharp left and hovered over the area they were sitting in. They cheered and hollered as it descended down and opened the infantry holding doors. Riley, "Canundrum", Big Pat, and Stanley were the last to enter and made their way straight to the cockpit where the confronted the pilot.

"Hey! What took you so long, Juli?!" Riley demanded angrily. The pilot jumped as he turned around to face them.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't get the order approved 'n then I had to chauffeur some more troops, and—"

"—Yeah, yeah, whatever, Juli," Riley laughed as he took a seat in one of the six purple, form- fitting chairs that flanked the pilot's seat. "Canundrum" chose a seat next to him and the Floods took the opposite, one chair vacant between them. The cockpit of a Covenant dropship was a short, seemingly vacant area, save for the controls.

"Lemme guess……you were stationed on _TR_, right……?" the pilot asked.

"Yep."

"Then I guess it's there you'll want to go. It's not in very good shape though……" he ended his sentences with a noise that sounded similar to a wrought iron gate that needed a serious oiling.

"Well, that's where they'd send me if I was called back," Riley answered.

The pilot was Juliano 'Lassamee. He had known Riley for almost a year. Riley had helped him struggle through his methamphetamines addiction and eventually led him to overcome it. He had been clean for almost three weeks. He wore navy blue armour, the armour for pilots, one of those beanies with a brim, and a pair of Aviator goggles. He spoke with a nasally, brittle voice that kind of got on your nerves after spending only a few minutes with him. It almost sounded like Steve Urkel, but a little deeper. And yes, he finished all of his sentences with one of those weird noises. He also had the habit of putting "Dean Martin's Greatest Hits" on repeat, so everyone that was assigned to his dropship had heard it about three times all the way through.

His persona kind of alarmed the Flood but didn't bother "Canundrum". At least, if it did, he didn't show it. Stanley got up and sat next to Riley.

"Um, Riley?"

"Yes, Stani?"

"Um……what's with your buddy here?" he said, nodding towards the pilot.

"Oh, see, Juliano used to be _the biggest_ meth addict you would ever meet. But, _thanks to me_, he's been off the stuff for like, three spans now and you only have a three percent chance of ever getting over it," he explained calmly.

They both heard him softly make another drawling noise.

"That's what two years of methamphetamines will do to you, Stanley," Riley whispered.

"Our Commanders push anti-drug laws _so much_ that it almost makes you _want_ to stick a needle in your arm," Stanley said.

Riley stared at the back of Juliano's head with a smile. "I think he likes you and Big Pat."

"……To be completely honest, Riley, I don't think he's even _noticed_ that we're on board," Stan answered turning his attention to the pilot as well. Juliano was looking at a Sangheili holo-newspaper pad upside down with a ditzy grin on his face, completely ignoring the controls. While trying to scroll down, he dropped it on the floor.

"Oh my, oh, oh my, oh my……" he repeated slowly as he reached down and tried to pick it up.

"Juli! Shouldn't you be driving?!" Riley inquired, reaching for the controls.

"What……?" Juliano said as he started to rise, hitting his head on the controls on the way up. He reached up and groped around for the autopilot, but switched on the boost instead. The dropship sped up dangerously. The gee force made everyone press against the seats.

"Dammit, Riley!" Stanley stated loudly.

Riley held on to the back of the pilot's chair as he reached for the control panel. Chancing it, he smacked a key, and the ship slowed significantly.

"Goodness……" Juliano said, finally crawling back into his chair. "That-that was my bad……."

"That's okay. Another day saved, thanks to……Riley 'Bodensee!" he announced heroically, rolling the "R" in his name.

"This is gonna be a _long_ ride……" Stanley shuddered.

Commanders Ivan and Jared stepped out of the stolen dropship with those who followed them, their heavy jackboots splashing mud as they jumped from the cockpit. The rain had let up, but everything still felt damp and muggy. There was also a dense fog surrounding the area. Jared jammed shells into his shotgun as he stared into the yellow lights marking the entrance to the lair.

"Which levrel?" he asked, addressing Officer Crewes.

"The last, that's to the extent of my knowledge, sir."

"There's no trime trew waste……mrove out!" he yelled as he cocked his rifle and hurried towards the entrance.

Upon entering their lair, they noticed several dozen Flood corpses scattered around the lift. Both Commanders eyed the carnage emotionlessly. Jared turned to Crewes.

"Where is he? The human _will_ dry!" he questioned, temper rising. All of the human forms chuckled.

"He should, or he'll catch cold," Anderson whispered to Ivan, who chuckled heartily.

"……I—I don't know, sir," he answered, growing all the more nervous.

"He didn't come alone," Ivan stated as he knelt over a mangled Marine in a corner of the room. "The humans _were_ here."

"……Let's crontinue on. The Flood cran't affrord to lose valuabrull sroldiers," Jared ordered as they boarded the lift. He let Ivan go first.

The scene was the same on the next floor down. Bodies of infected soldiers covered the ground and every time the tyrants asked their staff, all were clueless as to whereabouts the Spartan. The officers' anxiety grew as the Commanders grew more and more upset. Upset Flood Commanders could result in fatalities. They were so scared that none of them even giggled at Commander Jared's speech impediment.

While riding the second lift, the sound of voices grew steadily louder. Everyone took up their weapons. As the lift came to a halt, they noticed quite a few living soldiers huddled in corners as they stepped into the next room. The doors on all walls had been ripped from their automatic conveyers or otherwise smashed and hanging helplessly, bodies lay strewn across the floor, and a light bridge flickered on and off. Ivan took one quivering soldier by his collar and seized him up off the ground.

"What the devil is going on here, Private?!" he ordered violently.

"We-we tried to resist, sir, but he wouldn't die!" he sobbed hysterically.

"Pull yourself together, soldier!" Ivan hollered as he slapped him across the face. "I've got a good mind to put you out of your misery!"

The Storm Trooper immediately calmed down as best he could. Ivan threw him down.

"Idling will grit us no where," Jared insisted, pointing to a broken door on the left wall on the floor below them.

"You heard the man, let's move!"

The team jumped down from the second floor. The officers followed the tyrants to the next door. They casually stepped over wounded Flood soldiers with missing limbs and bullet-ridden bodies without a second thought as they entered through passageways and damaged doors.

"You know how there were human soldiers up on the first level?" Ringsminister Speekeasie said. "Well, _maybe_……a group of them came here to look for some sort of Covenant secret, but instead found us. _And just maybe_ the super-soldier's men were successfully killed, but a second platoon lived, and _maybe_, _just maybe_, they made their way outside and to the Library where they got inside and are preparing to storm _that_," he explained.

Ivan, Jared, and the other staff favoured him with confused and offended looks.

"Whoa…….did he just _talk_?" Ringsmarschal Hindenburg asked.

"I think so!" Kristallnacht answered.

"……_That_……was _the stupidest thing _I've ever heard," Ivan said hostilely.

"My apologies, sir."

"Let's press on……now that you're finished _telling stories_."

"What drove you to finally speak?" Anderson said.

"Yeah and why didn't you ever talk to us before? You're pretty smart," 'Magee questioned.

"I just, never had anything of significant importance to say……" Speekeasie said with a shrug.

They arrived at the room where they normally filmed propaganda messages and other speeches and looked down upon the carnage.

Nothing moved.

The bodies of their soldiers who tried to put up a resistance covered the floor along with pools of blood, discarded weapons, and spent shell casings.

"Grood Grod," Jared said as they surveyed the area. Ivan growled in disappointment. Stepping forward, he disrespectfully yanked a dead soldier off of the ground with one hand. He scanned the area near the body……it was painted with human blood. He tossed the corpse back to the ground and stalked around the room searching for survivors. The officers helped as well, kicking all the bodies. One painfully eased itself up and coughed, a large shotgun blast had removed one arm and one leg.

"We got a live one!" Ringsmarschal Hindenburg called out. The Commanders rushed over. Ivan seized him by the collar of his uniform and held him up to eye level.

"Where is he?! The human! Tell me, Lieutenant!" he demanded.

"He escaped," the Lieutenant answered dryly.

"……You let him escape," Ivan repeated.

"Yes, Commander."

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!"

"He was a Spartan. He was too powerful."

He was about to chew him out again, when he heard something break into his radio frequency.

"Excuse me," he said, shouldering his rifle and turning up his radio. "This is Commander Ivan, what's the trouble _now_?!"

"Sir!" he heard a voice over the static. "This is Major Hottentot."

"Go ahead, Major."

"There is a disturbance in the Library," he said. "There was a human here previously but we managed to dispose of him. There is another disturbance we're picking up on the Forerunner teleportation grids. It might the soldier you were talking of. We'll keep an eye on it," the Major reported.

Ivan's eyes widened and he dropped his radio.

"Did he just sray what—"

"—Yes, Jared……" Ivan answered, cutting him off.

He then clenched his fists and growled with complete enragement.

"YOU LET HUMANS GET INTO THE LIBRARY?!" he screamed at the Lieutenant, saliva drizzling his face.

"Woodja look at that, you were right Speekeasie!" Hindenburg said.

"I thought you called up the Covenant explosives officer, Commander Jared?" Officer Crewes asked quietly.

"I crouldn't gret a hold of him. Just our luck……next trime, for sure."

The Master Chief felt himself materialize from his teleportation travel. He wondered what the hell had happened and where the hell he was. He felt an uncomfortable combination of disorientation, nausea, and anger, but angry was his default emotion, so that wasn't too new.

He took a quick look around and came to the conclusion that 343 had teleported him to a different location. He was inside another structure, a dark and imposing one. The Master Chief could see the small machine hovering above him, giving off a ghostly blue light.

"So, where am I?" he questioned, taking another look around.

"_This installation was built to study and contain the Flood_," the machine answered, "_however_, _they have long since taken over this and the rest of the ring in defiance to those who forced them underground_._ Their survival as a race depended on the containment_,_ but any of their leaders will dispute that_." Guilty Spark had floated over to a back wall. Using the blue light that Guilty Spark gave off, the Chief could see that the wall was loaded with photos. He safely assumed that they were all the highest-ranking officers the creatures had. Every one of them had on glares, sneers, frowns, or arrogant smiles.

"Wow. They look like a _fun_ group of aliens."

"_Aren't they just_? _I am grateful to that some of them survived to reproduce_."

"'Survived'? 'Reproduce'? What the hell are you talking about?" the Master Chief inquired.

"……"

"Well?"

"……_We must find the Index_!" the machine said abruptly.

"Hold on, I'm still lost."

"_Listen_, _Reclaimer_. _I don't like giving the sex talk_. _I was not programmed for it_, _therefore_……_I am not saying anything_. _Refrain from asking me anymore_."

"……You've gotta be kidding me," the Spartan said, shaking his head.

"_We must collect the Index_!" Guilty Spark said again and with that, zoomed away from the Chief. "_Time is of the essence_. _Please_,_ follow me_."

It was either follow the dumb little robot, or, get left behind. The Master Chief decided that he would follow. He checked both of his weapons and followed the blue trial.

"Speaking of _you_, who the hell are you and what is your function?"

"_I am 343 Guilty Spark_. _I am the Monitor_, _or more precisely_, _a self_-_repairing artificial intelligence charged with maintaining and operating this facility_. _But_ _you_ _are the Reclaimer_—_so you already knew that_."

"So, what crime did you commit to get that punishment?" he chuckled to himself.

"_Two counts of arson and running a murder_-_for_-_profit business inside this installation_," the machine answered calmly, as if he had no trouble at all with telling him.

"……Okay then……so, refresh my memory, how long has it been since you were left in charge?" the Master Chief asked cautiously, thinking it wise to play along, even though he figured the machine wasn't able to run a murder-for-profit business. He didn't have the right look. The Chief knew.

"_Exactly 101_,_217 local years_. _Most of which were quite boring_. _But not anymore_! _Hee_,_ hee_,_ hee_!"

The Spartan was completely weirded-out by the sudden giggle from the potentially homicidal machine. He knew from experience that, over time, AIs could develop a kind of personality, usually quirky, homicidal/suicidal, or all out insane. The thing had been here for more than one hundred thousand years. It was quite possible that 343 Guilty Spark was a combination of all three. From the constant laughter and repetitive speech patterns, it was all too obvious. Of course, the same thing could be debated about Captain Keyes. You have to watch out for old people and old machines.

The Monitor kept talking, blathering about "effecting repairs to substation nine", and about how fanatical some character named "Ivan" was.

"_There is no time to dawdle_. _We have work to do_!" Spark said, giggling.

"Got so much work to yeah, yeah?" the Chief asked, stuffing shells into "the Clyde". The shotgun had proved to be exorbitantly useful against the Flood when they began attacking.

"_This is no time for the Average White Band_,_ Reclaimer_."

"On the contrary, it's _always_ time for Average White Band."

"_This is the Library_," the machine explained, hovering along. "_The energy field is up ahead_. _We must get to the Index."_

The Spartan ignored the machine's blather and thought about how much he wanted a cheeseburger. "Index? What Index?" he asked, snapping out of his daydream.

"_The security doors are locked automatically_. _I will go access the override to open them_. _I am a genius_," the Monitor said matter-of-factly. "_Hee_,_ hee, hee_."

After that, the machine stopped humming to itself and took off again. 343 Guilty Spark suffers from a virus he contracted for years of boredom called CRAS, otherwise know as "Chronic Running-Away Syndrome". Young children and teens fall victim to this disease as well. Domestic animals are no exception either.

"More like a pain the ass if you ask me," the Chief said.

The double doors opened a few moments later. The Monitor whizzed through. "_Please follow closely_. _This portal is the first of ten_."

The Chief cautiously entered through the doors and followed the AI past a line of blue screens. Each screen showed a picture of one of the same two Floods that were painted everywhere in both facilities. The two were shown interchangeably on the screens.

"_More _doors. I can hardly wait."

343 Guilty Spark ignored the Master Chief's sarcasm and continued talking about the first-class research facilities that surrounded them—and carelessly led the human into a group of Flood. They all jumped up and fired with all of their might.

This scene was repeated many times as the two went from room to room, gallery to gallery, all infested with Flood just waiting to get their hands on the human. The Spartan had some help again. The same angular robots that had previously assisted him and his squad of Marines outside attacked the Flood forms below.

"_These Sentinels will assist you_, _Reclaimer_," the Monitor said. Lasers hissed and sizzled as they burned down the Flood soldiers as they hissed, growled, and made a variety of other noises.

As the Spartan fought his way through the facility, Guilty Spark offered a commentary, something which greatly annoyed the soldier.

"_These Sentinels will supplement your combat system_. _I suggest you upgrade to at least a Class Twelve Combat Skin_. _Your current model only scans as a Class Two_—_which is unsuited for this kind of work_."

_If there is a battle suit six times as powerful as MJOLNIR_, the Master Chief thought, _I'll be first in line to try it on_. _Wow_, he then thought, _that sounded really lame_.

He jerked to his left, just missing a swing from the butt of a shotgun belonging to a combat form and returned the favour with a blow from his own.

Finally, when the Sentinels had reduced the remaining Flood to paste, he moved onto a circular platform. It was much, much bigger than the other lifts he had come in contact with. This one could have easily fit a Scorpion inside. Maybe even seven or eight.

Machinery hummed, bands of white light pulsated down from above and the lift began to crawl upward. _Maybe things would be better above_,_ maybe the Flood hadn't reached that level yet_, he thought. Then he noticed a human combat form sitting on the floor and leaning against the pillar in the center of the lift. He had an officer's hat pulled down over his eyes and was obviously asleep. _Or maybe that idea was full of crap_, he then thought.

The lift jerked to a halt. The sleeping Flood awoke with a start, scanning the area with panic. Then realizing he was exactly where he fell asleep in, he stood up slowly. Cracking his back and his neck, he made for the archway that led into a narrow passage. Not feeling up to sparing Flood forms, he held up "the Clyde", took aim, and blasted a foot wide hole through the sleepy combat form. He walked right over the Flood's prone body and into the passageway that led to another large gallery. The Flood began their attack almost immediately, but, with no enemy to his back, he was free to back into the chamber from which he had just entered. Before long, the bodies of the Flood accumulated in the small passage.

The Sentinels reappeared a moment or two later and led the Spartan past another wall of propagandistic blue screens.

"So where were you bastards a moment ago when I needed you?" he asked gruffly. If the robots could hear him, they ignored him and floated on.

"_Flood activity has caused a failure in a drone_-_control system_. _I must reset the backup unit_," 343 Guilty Spark said. "_Please continue on_—_I will rejoin you when I have completed my task_."

The Monitor had left him alone before and it always meant that another wave of Flood attackers was about to appear. "Hold on," the human protested "let's discuss this—" but he was too late. The little machine had already disappeared. No sooner had he left, a lumpy and mentally instable Flood form waddled into view, heading straight for him. The Spartan shot the Flood form and left the Sentinels to clean up.

A fresh onslaught of Flood poured out of every place imaginable and the Spartan adopted a new strategy: Let the Sentinels do all the work. The robots mowed through waves of infection forms with little difficulty. Then more of the hostiles appeared and _more_ still. The Chief stayed back and watched the pitched battle. Feeling rather low on blood sugar, he pulled a protein bar out of his utility belt and proceeded to eat it. When he was finished and when the Sentinels had taken care of the Flood problem, he carelessly tossed the wrapper on the ground. One robot immediately sped over and burned the wrapper down with a laser.

The Monitor drifted back into the room, spun around as to survey the area, and chuckled in disapproval.

"_You're so finished_, _Reclaimer_."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" the Spartan challenged.

"_These Sentinels can only use their weapons to manage the Flood for a short time_, _Reclaimer_. _Speed is of the essence_.

"Then let's go," the Chief growled.

The Monitor made no reply. The small construct led the Master Chief deeper into the recesses of the Library's gloomy chambers. They passed through a number of open doors but soon came to one that was closed. The Spartan paused for a moment, assuming that 343 would open it for him, but the Monitor disappeared. Again.

_The hell with it_, he thought to himself, wondering if he was going to have enough patience and sanity to complete the rest of the mission.

Determined to press on without or without the on-again, off-again guidance from the Monitor, he retraced his steps back to an area where a sloping ramp emerged from below. He followed it downward, but soon found himself faced with another squad of Flood.

The confines of the area made it easy for him to dispose of the parasitic forms and he found himself walking up another ramp on the other side of the metal door as well as the Monitor humming to itself.

"_Oh_, _hello_! _I am a genius_."

"_Right_……_and I'm the Mayor of the Milky Way_," he grunted.

The Monitor zipped ahead, leading him to another door. Machinery whirred and he was forced to pause as the doors started to open. He heard a deep clank, a groan, and the doors stopped.

"_Please wait here_," Spark said for the umpteenth time and vanished. Just as the Chief was reloading his weapon, he saw a dozen red dots on his threat indicator. He stood with his back against the door as a platoon of angry Flood soldiers began to charge at him. Deciding to try something different, he tossed a grenade in their midst and half of the group went up with the blast. It took a minute, plus a quite a few rounds of ammo, but he finished off the last of the platoon.

That was when machinery started clanking again and the great doors opened, revealing the Monitor as he floated and hummed. "_I am a genius_!"

_Say that one more time and I swear to God_, the Master Chief thought.

He moved into the new gallery—a high, vaulted gallery, lit with dim green-yellow lights. For the first time since 343 Guilty Spark had dragged him in here against his will, he had a moment of relaxation.

He popped a stim-pack, hastily finished a Lean Cuisine Orange Chicken and Rice meal, and gathered up his weapons.

As he proceeded into the Library further, he discovered a corpse—a human one. A Flood form in an elaborate uniform was standing over the body. With one boot propped up against what used to be the Marine's head, he gripped the dead soldier's arm and began yanking on it. The Master Chief had just heard a sickening _crack_, when he charged at the Flood form, brandishing "the Clyde".

"Hey! Whaddaya think you're doing?!" he answered in a "Major Silva" tone.

The Flood whipped around, taking notice. He hissed at him and then shimmed up a wall like a spider and into a vent.

The Chief stooped to examine the body. It wasn't pretty. The Marine's body was so mangled that even the Flood couldn't make use of it. Or maybe they just didn't _want_ to make use of it……those Nazis.

"_Ah_," Guilty Spark said. "_The_ _other_ _Reclaimer_. _He was even more finished than you are_."

"_What the hell does that mean_? You've already said it like, three times," the Chief replied, acknowledging the AI.

"……_I found him wandering through a structure on the other side of the ring and brought him to the same point where you started_."

"That doesn't answer my question." He looked back to the body and marveled at the fact that a Marine could have gotten this far. Even with his physical augmentation and advanced armour, he was reaching the last of his endurance.

He checked for the leatherneck's dog tags and noticed that they were still intact. He read the name: MUGATU, STAFF SERGEANT.

The Chief put the tags away.

"I didn't know you, Sarge. But I sure as hell wished I had. You must've been one hardcore son of a bitch."

"_Actually, for one to be 'hardcore'_, _one must listen to the old human band 'Agnostic Front'_. _To the extent of my vast knowledge_, _the_ _other_ _Reclaimer had never heard of them_."

"……Shut up," the Chief answered.

The dropship ride had been long and torturous after the holo-paper incident. Riley and "Canundrum" had fallen asleep, forcing Stanley to listen to Juliano ramble on about nothing for two hours. Big Pat still refused to talk to him as well. Stan was just about to decide on suicide when Juliano hollered, "we're here……"

"Hey, Sleeping Ugly……wake up," Stanley said, smacking Riley roughly on the thigh.

"Lady Doppelganger did it in the boat house with the watering can!" he yelled as he awoke suddenly, lifting his head off of "Canundrum's" shoulder.

"Chill, Riley," Stanley said.

"Oh, sorry. I was having a really interesting dream. See, I was like, in this parallel universe of family board-games and—"

"—_If I hear another thing about weird dreams_," Stanley threatened.

"Oh……did Juliano tell you all about—"

"—All that and more……_too much more_."

"Ouch. Hey 'Canundrum', time to wake up," he said playfully as he nudged him.

"……Five more units," he said, pushing Riley off, stretching out on the row of seats, and putting his arms over his head.

"No, _now_, you sleepyhead," Riley demanded as he began poking the other Elite in various places. "Canundrum" groaned.

"I need to get off of this flying asylum," Stanley said.

"Oh, hello, Riley……did you have a nice flight……?" Juliano asked, getting up from his seat.

"Yes. You're a very smooth pilot," Riley said with a chuckle. "All right, all ashore!" he said loudly as the two Floods and Juliano exited the ship. He had to drag "Canundrum" out from the cockpit.

Riley's eager smile dropped as soon as he stepped outside. His jaws hung agape as he surveyed the area. It was a dark, rainy swamp covered in foliage and mud. He slowly turned towards Juliano, issuing him a healthy dose of "crazy eyes", who smiled innocently and made one of his infamous noises as he shrugged.

"Oops. I had to drop off a group of Special Operatives soldiers here earlier and had it on autopilot. I guess I forgot to change it before we left the human base……"

Riley clenched his fists and yelled towards the sky. "Conflabbit, where are we?!"

"Hey, we're back home," Stanley said as he looked in the direction of the Flood base.

"Hey, you're right!" Big Pat agreed.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait……you guys _live_ _here_?" Riley asked.

"Duh, we live underground in that structure over there," Stanley said, gesturing with his thumb. "It's _probably_ not a good idea to go in there, though. If everyone else gets sight of you three, they'll go crazy."

"S'not a lie," Big Pat said.

Riley sighed angrily. "Well, everyone back in the dropship. Juliano, you better take back to the ship this time, or I'munna bust a cap in yo' fanny!" he ordered.

"Um……Riley? Will you not get mad if I tell you something……?"

"……Depends."

Juliano gulped. "Well……I kinda, accidentally, hit a tree or somethin' when we were in descent, so……I need to do some internal repairs. Otherwise, I really don't think I should be driving it until then……"

Riley's shoulders sank from their tensed position. "Oh, great," he said with another disgruntled sigh. "_What_ are we gonna do until then?"

"We could go into the Library," Stanley suggested, pointing to the tall one in the middle of the swamp. "It'll probably be empty seeing as barely anyone is here. Everyone's either in the 'base' or at the Covenant ship. I also think Pat and I should get some sort of weapon to have just in case."

"Fine, we'll do that. Juliano, stay here and do whatchoo do. 'Canundrum'—"

"—Hm?" he grunted sleepily.

"You're gonna come with us."

"……Whatever," he said as he yawned.

"All righty then! Let's mosey!" he said, marching toward the structure.

"Be careful, Riley. I have no idea if anyone's out here or not. This place is normally teaming with night patrol, stationary turrets, and snipers," Stanley cautioned.

"Fear not, Stanley, for _I_ am like a rock!" Riley said loudly.

"Actually, if anything, you're more like a 'pop rock'. Tiny and you make a lotta noise," Stanley said quietly, rolling his good eye.

"I am Sangheili, hear me—" before he had the chance to finish his sentence, he was tackled to the ground by an angry Flood. Stanley, Big Pat, and "Canundrum" rushed to his aide.

"Help! He's mugging me!" Riley screamed as the Flood began choking him. Big Pat grabbed the human Flood underneath the arms and pulled him off of the helpless Elite. The attacker continued to flail his arms and snarl in Riley's direction.

"What's the matter with you?! Are you some kinda wild animal?!" Stanley scolded.

"_Shut up_, _Stanley_! I'm _starving_! I haven't eaten in three years!" he argued bitterly.

"_You_ faired pretty well for one hundred thousand years, I _think_ you can handle _three_."

"Aw, come _on_!"

"These are my _friends_, you're _not_ gonna eat them."

"Oh, whatever! Um, by the way……I wouldn't go in the base if I were you," he said, immediately settling down and ceasing his shouting.

"Well, _obviously_, I've got—"

"—No, no, see, even if you _weren't_ with them, that would be the worst idea in the galaxy."

"Why?"

"Well, it's like this. This crazy-go-nuts human soldier in green armour stopped by and made a joke out of the Storm Troopers and the Floodmacht. It's been chaos for about an hour or so."

"Damn……"

"I know, right? So, yeah. I'd keep a low profile if I were you guys. You should go through the back door. There was an armada of soldiers in there, but, he's killed nearly everyone so far. Judging by what I've heard, he works pretty quickly, so he should be way ahead of you. You should be okay for the moment."

"Oh, that sounds _much_ better," Stanley said.

"If you're Flood, it's a hell of a lot better. Will you put me down now?" he axed, turning to Big Pat.

"Are you gonna behave?"

"……Yes."

Big Pat put him down.

"……Meh, I wouldn't get any satisfaction out of you anyway," he said to Riley.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?!" Riley whined.

"You're a skinny-ass bitch."

"You're _so_ hurtful!" Riley wailed.

"Well, peace out Stanley, Patrick," he said as he saluted to them and climb back up to his perch in a tree.

"C'mon guys," Stanley said as he approached the tall tower-like structure. The foursome sloshed through calf-deep water until they reached it. They followed Stanley around the back of the spiraling tower and he wrenched open a door for them.

Inside was dark and gloomy, but it beat standing out in the rain and the humidity for God knows how long. The Elites followed Stanley and Big Pat down a spiraling staircase for a few before they reached an exhaustingly long tunnel that led to a massive lift.

"Whoa! Nice lift!" Riley said as he and "Canundrum" looked up and around upon entry.

"Yep. This is how the Flood roll," Stanley said as he entered, pressed a control, and the lift lurched down.

"The acoustics in here are great! I'munna try my hand at yodeling. _I've_ been practicing," Riley said mischievously.

"Oh, Christ no," Stanley said, shaking his head.

"No, no, for realsies……it sounds so B.A.M.F.," Riley assured. He cleared his throat. Cupping his hands to the side of his jaws, he totally went for it. The three winced as he made an attempt at herd-calling. It _definitely_ needed some work. It _did_, however, echo nicely in the huge lift.

"Mm-hm! How was that?" Riley asked cheekily.

"……Why don't you stick to singing, Captain Von Trapp?" Stanley suggested.

"Psh, Captain Von Trapp didn't yodel! Maria did! _He_ sang 'Edelweiss'," Riley said enthusiastically, and proceeded to start singing it.

"Edelweiss, Edelweiss—" but was promptly hit in the back of the head by Stanley.

"Hey!"

"Hey is right, I love that movie!" "Canundrum" said to Stanley.

"Psh, so does Ivan," Stanley commented to himself. "Only _he_ likes the end with the Nazis and any part with Rolf."

"Touché," Big Pat said as they high-fived.

The lift came to a halt.

"Everyone out," Stanley said as they proceeded to exit. They passed through the same dark passageway as the Master Chief had and came to the same gallery. It was teaming was a new group of Flood. They were just making idle, playing cards, having arm-wrestling contests, or doing other "manly" things. They all focused their attention on the foursome as they entered the gallery. A few of them started laughing.

"What are _you two_ doing down here? Shouldn't you be in the base having sex with each other or pickin' flowers?"

"Hey, look! There are actually homos on the front line!"

"The battlefield is no place for gays!" Were some of the rude remarks made by the other soldiers.

"Hey, these guys aren't very nice," Riley said, observing the area.

"Welcome to our life. If you make firm, direct eye-contact with the soldiers, they'll consider it a challenge," Stanley said keeping his eyes forward. Riley and "Canundrum" immediately lowered their heads and looked at the ground, Riley lowering his more disired.

"Hey look! They brought us a snack!"

"Oh, great! I'm starving!"

"Don't _even_ think about it," Stanley said to the Major as he passed by.

"……You're protecting the _enemy_?" he inquired.

"Hell no, I'm saving _these_ for later," Stanley answered. "Get your own, Nazi bastard."

"You'll be sorry when you get to the fourth level!" he said loudly as they exited the gallery and moved on toward the next. "That's what you'll get for not sharing!"

"I'm terribly sorry, guys. The Delugian Floods are complete and total dickheads," Stanley apologized.

"It's okay, Stan. They're just insecure about their own sexuality. They're probably 'the gay' too," Riley said.

"Got that right," Stanley said as they passed through a large metal door. "Hm……I've noticed that there are considerably less soldiers around here of late."

"Wull, Rolf _did_ say that a human soldier came down here and killed almost everyone," Big Pat said.

"Oh, so you're talking to me again?" Stanley inquired.

"……Yeah. I'm sorry I got mad, Stanley."

"It's okay. This isn't the first time you've tried to stay angry with me. But I'm sorry if I offended you. Really, though……I didn't do anything with him. He was one of those half-infected, schizo-cases."

"Apology accepted," Big Pat said as a massive hug ensued.

"Aw!" Riley said.

"……You know, since we're on the subject……I've gotten pretty attached to _you_ over the last couple of lapses," "Canundrum" said.

"But, we were only POWMIA for a short time," he said, laughing out loud.

"……Exactly."

Just when "Canundrum" was about to make another move on Riley, a blue-glowing machine came into view and everyone looked up in confusion.

"_Greetings_, _other Reclaimers_. _I am the Monitor of this install_—_oh_, _hello Floods 68_,_412 and_ _68_,_413_," it said abruptly.

"It's_ Stanley _and_ Patrick_," Stanley corrected angrily.

"_I will call you by your_ _real names_, _thank you very much_," the Monitor said.

"You're not my real father!" Stanley cried out.

"Hey! I didn't know the Royal Icon was a flying radio!" Riley said as he nudged "Canundrum".

"……Okay?" he answered.

"_I_ _beg_ _your pardon_?" 343 Guilty Spark said, approaching the two Elites.

"……Ugh, I hate this station already," Riley said, grabbing a hold of the machine and examining it.

"_What are you doing_?! _Unhand me this instant_!" Spark said.

"How do you change it?" Riley questioned further, trying to turn, press, or switch something on the Monitor.

"I think it has something to do with the light in the middle," "Canundrum" suggested, pointing to it.

"Oh, good idea!" Riley answered, poking it a bunch of times.

"_Ow_! _Ouch_! _Goodness_! _Ow_!" Guilty Spark cried out.

"You can have it for fifty bucks," Stanley said.

"Done!" Riley said. He reached into a pocket on his battle harness, but looked disappointed when he came up with nothing. "How about an I.O.U.?"

"That'll work."

"_Sweet_!" he whispered intensely. He was about to continued to mess with the machine, when it issued him a small blue shock. "_Ow_! Hey!"

He let go of it and it floated well out of Riley's reach. "_Honestly_! _To think I_, _a genius_ _and_ _self_-_repairing artificial intelligence_, _a radio_!" he complained.

"Let's press on, shall we?" Stanley said. "We still need to get weapons."

"But what about the Royal Icon?" Riley asked "Canundrum".

"Eh, leave him. What have the Prophets done for _us_, anyway?" he answered.

"Point. Bye, radio!" Riley said as he waved to the Monitor and followed Stanley and Big Pat.

"_I am_ _not_ _a radio_! _I am a genius_!" he hollered.

They approached a yet another large metal door.

"_Oh_! It's locked." Riley said.

"You just gotta say the password," Stanley said with a shrug.

"Password?" Riley said, cocking his head to the left.

"Yeah. Watch _this_ magic," Stan said as he approached the door. "……Tippy-toe."

"Access: Granted!" a deep and menacing computer voice said and the door lurched open. Stanley turned to his group and held out his hands with a smile.

"OhmyProphets! That was _the coolest_ thing I've _ever_ seen!" Riley laughed with ecstasy.

"What kind of password is _that_?" "Canundrum" asked, disgusted.

"The kind of password grown male soldiers _aren't_ going to think of," Stanley said as he passed through the door with Big Pat.

Stanley was confronted by a group of Flood, all of which stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of him.

"Private Stanley! What the hell are _you_ doing here?" the Flood who was leading the charge asked irately.

"I'm doing all right, sir. I'm here to collect from last week, you _said_ 'one more week'," he said bluntly.

"I didn't _do_ anything with _you_! I don't swing that way!" the leader remarked, nervously looking over his shoulder.

"That's not what you said Wednesday afternoon," Stanley said.

The other officer looked at the group behind Stanley. Big Pat was looking at his claws, "Canundrum" looked rather bored, and Riley was standing there laughing at nothing in particular.

"Nice entourage," the opposing Flood said.

"Thanks. C'mon guys," he said as they followed him through a small path that the bloodthirsty Flood soldiers had made for them. They walked through the gallery and onto yet another lift. It carried them to a higher level. Every time a platoon tried to attack them, they greeted their brothers with either insults about sexuality or issued friendly salutes. They passed through one last gallery and into the top room of the Library. This one looked significantly different from the others. A series of raised panels stood guard around a column of translucent blue light and the whole thing seemed to glow.

"It's like being inside of a dream, a holiday, and a fairy tale _all at once_……." Riley said with amazement.

"_Or_ it's like being in the tenth level of the Index Library," Stanley said. This made "Canundrum" and Big Pat chuckle. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go check our weapons locker on this level to see if we have anything left," he said, as he leapt up to an aperture in the wall.

"Hey, look over there! It's the 'Incredible Dr. Anthrax'!" Riley said, tugging on "Canundrum's" arm.

"Hey……wait, what?" The other Elite was highly confused, having not been in on the joke.

The Master Chief was standing in front of a large blue and white column of light. 343 Guilty Spark appeared over their heads again as they approached the center of the room.

"Hey! The radio is back!" Riley said.

"_Oh no_," the Monitor groaned. "_I'm going to pretend you're all not here_. _Oh good_, _I see Reclaimer number two has safely found the Index_." With that, the machine promptly left and floated towards the Spartan.

"No! The radio! Come back! Why do you close your eyes when we make love?!" Riley hollered, dropping to his knees in comedic sadness.

"What does_ that_ mean?" "Canundrum" inquired.

"Oh, I saw it on a TV show, but I don't know what it's supposed to mean," Riley answered, regaining all of his composure as he continued to kneel on the floor.

"Hey now, let's keep _this_ level of the Library PG," Stanley said, jumping down from the aperture. "And by PG, I mean 'pretty graphic'." His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. "Holy shit, _no_!" he yelled. He ran up the pedestal and approached the Master Chief.

"Does your boyfriend suffer from CRAS?" Riley asked of Patrick as he stood.

"_Go ahead_, _Reclaimer two_, _you may now retrieve the Index_," the Monitor instructed the Spartan. The artifact glowed lime green and was in the shape of the letter "T". It slowly rose from the top of the casing in which it had been kept for many millennia. The series of metal blocks that surrounded it rotated and spun, releasing their protective grip on the Index.

"_God_,_ I leave you guys alone for two seconds_……excuse me, sir? What are you _doing _with that?!"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm taking this Index thing," the Chief answered.

"Do you have any idea as to what that thing can do?!" Stan axed.

"……Not entirely. But _I've_ got it now and _you_ don't. And if it gets me out of here and shuts that AI up, it must not be all that bad."

"Sir, I really think you should just—put—that—back—" he said, trying to grab it out of his hand. The Master Chief struggled to get the Flood off of him. He held it up in the air so he couldn't reach. It was a good four feet out of Stanley's grasp, seeing as he was the shortest one in the group at six feet. The problem was solved when a blue beam produced by 343 Guilty Spark yanked the Index out of the Spartan's hand and disappeared in the Monitor's "secret compartment".

"What the hell are you doing?" the Master Chief said angrily.

"_He_ started it," Stanley said, pointing at the human.

"_I don't care_," he said, as if talking to recalcitrant children, and then, as if talking to recalcitrant children, he continued, as if talking to recalcitrant children. "_As you know_, _Reclaimer_, _protocol requires that I take possession of the Index for transport_."

343 swooped down to the Spartan's level. "_Your biological form renders you vulnerable to infection_. _The Index must not fall into the hands of the Flood before we reach the control room to activate the installation_."

"Fuck—you. _Give it back_," Stanley demanded of the machine.

"Wait, what?" the Master Chief asked.

"……_The Flood is spreading_, _we must hurry_!"

"Stop calling me fat!" Big Pat wailed.

The Master Chief was about to reply, but white and gold bands began to pulsate around him again and he felt the light-headedness of teleportation again. He disappeared within the instant, leaving the Elites and the Flood alone again.

"Dave's so lucky……he gets to time-travel," Riley sighed.

"Dave?" "Canundrum" inquired. "I thought he was the 'Incredible Dr. Anthrax'?"

"Yep. I changed it. That's my new pet-name for him. I don't think he liked the 'Incredible Dr. Anthrax' very much."

"This is _not_ good……" Stanley said.

"What's not good? I am _totally_ lost!" Riley said like a valley-girl, putting his hands on his hips.

"Hey Stanley, what's goin' on?" Everyone heard a voice. A large group of Flood soldiers entered the Index gallery seconds later.

"_Where _were you guys two minutes ago?" Stanley replied through gritted teeth.

"Uh……" the leading soldier said as he looked around.

"The Spartan stole the Index!"

"Oooh……" the officer said, turning his attention to the vacant force field in the back of the room. He and the rest of his platoon all held silver thermoses and every one of the soldiers looked highly embarrassed. "Yer not gonna tell Commander Ivan about this, are you?"

"Fuck you and the rest of your Nazis……we need to get weapons and get out of here, _fast_! We have to follow that guy and make sure he _doesn't_ make love with the Index and the controls!" Stanley said, turning back to his group and running towards a small archway. He turned around sharply. "Are you guys coming or not?!"

The Elites shrugged and ran after him. They followed the hysterical Stanley through a small passage and into the first gallery. The first platoon of Flood was still there.

"Major Creplock!" Stanley said, actually saluting him.

"Well, this is a nice change of pace," he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I don't have time. I need two shotguns and two plasma rifles!" he said quickly.

"Why?"

"Please, sir! This is important! The human and the Monitor have the Index," he said to the Major quietly.

"Good God, why didn't you say so, soldier?!" the Major half yelled. He immediately ripped the weapons out of a small foursome of Delugian soldier's hands and handed them off to Stanley. "Good luck, soldier!" he said as he saluted.

"Thank you, sir!" he answered, handing the weapons off to their designated soldiers. "Come on, guys! And Riley?"

"Yeah?"

"Your junkie friend _better _have that U-boat fixed!"

"He's _not_ a junkie! He's on the wagon!"

"Um, I thought that was alcohol," "Canundrum" corrected.

"You know what I mean."

They sprinted out of the structure as fast as they could. Splashing through the water and pounding the ground, they arrived at the dropship just as Juliano was wiping his hands clean.

"Quickly! Is it fixed?!" Stanley asked impatiently.

"Well, yeah……it will work safely now……" Juliano drawled.

"Good! Get in!" he said, grabbing the confused Elite and shoving him inside. Juliano yelped in distress.

"I am _soooooo_ confused," Riley said.

"Hurry up!" Stanley ordered, standing by the cockpit door.

"Where am I going……?" he asked, flipping the autopilot off.

"You need to go to Halo's Control Center and _stop_ the Spartan guy! It's located south in the wintry region of the ring," Stanley instructed.

Riley gasped in joy. "We get to go to the snow world?!"

"Well……I, I gotta get back to the _Truth and Reconciliation_……" Juliano said looking at and gesturing to his alien watch. "We've stalled long enough and I'm gonna get totally chewed out……"

"I need to go check in and find out what the situation is," "Canundrum" said.

"You guys don't have _time_ for this!" Stanley explained.

"Yeah, me too. Let's go to the ship. Maybe someone of a higher rank will be able to tell give us instructions to get there," Riley suggested. "Just don't wig out anymore, Stanley, you'll get ulcers."

Stanley looked at Riley and shook his head. "I'm a Flood……I can't _get_ ulcers. I don't think you understand the complexity of the issue at hand here, Riley."

"If you're so worried about this, why don't _you_ go?" Riley asked.

"Okay, sure, I'll just use the rocket ship that I have right here and fly there," Stanley said sarcastically, pointing to the empty swamp next to him.

"……Stanley, there's nothing there," Riley answered. "_Unless_ it's invisible…...is it invisible?!"

"You're one smart cookie, alien. Look, you've got high-ranking friends, right?"

"……No."

"Well……then why don't you try to get them to help you talk to your leaders. _That's_ something you can do. Hopefully, the human will realize just what he's going to do and stop. Anyway, _maybe_ if you can convince them, they will call off the war. _That way_, the Covenant and the humans can stop freaking out about our ring and this power struggle can cease. Pat and I need to stay here to try and convince _our_ leaders to stop the attack on both armies and the raid on the universe based solely on the fact that it's stupid. I've got a pretty good idea of how to do that. You just go! Find away to stop the Spartan, if you can, and try to stop the war," Stanley said.

"Spartan?" Riley asked, highly confused.

"_The green guy_," Stanley said irately.

"Oh, you mean _Dave_! Okay, gotcha……I'll do my best……for the good of the universe!" he screamed, covering one eye with a hand and shaking his fist in the air. He disappeared inside of the dropship. As Juliano put it into gear, it ascended above the swamp, and took off carefully.

"……Think they're actually gonna stop the—"

"—No, hell no," Stanley said, turning around, cocking his rifle, and heading towards their base.

"……Yeah, me too."

Keyes still wasn't talking, probably because Officer Nuremberg really hadn't asked him anything. He was sitting in his own chair across from the Captain, one leg crossed over the other as he looked at his nails. The Captain stared at the alien curiously, highly intrigued by the tendrils protruding from his chest. They twitched every once in the while and that excited Keyes, much like a cat with a piece of string.

"……Soooooo……how are you?" Nuremberg finally asked, his sudden speech startling the Captain.

"My name is Captain Keyes, I've been better. My name is Captain Keyes, and you?"

"Mm, can't complain," Nuremberg said with a shrug.

The Captain nodded.

"Um……you're in the UNSC Naval branch, right?" Nuremberg inquired.

"My name is Captain Keyes, yes sir, goin' on thirty five years."

"Oh, congratulations!" the Flood said with a smile. After turning his attention back to his hands, he began chewing on one fingernail as he looked up at the array of control panels that wrapped around the control platform with his only working eye.

"……I'm sorry, I don't really know how an interrogation works, really. I don't know what to ask you as far as 'secret information' goes and my small-talk is somethin' awful," the Flood admitted.

"My name is Captain Keyes and that's all right with me."

"I'll bet," Nuremberg said with a giggle.

"My name is Captain Keyes and say, you look kinda familiar, underneath your um, alien exterior. My name is Captain Keyes, was your host body a UNSC soldier and was his name Scott Nuremberg?"

A memory awoke in the back of the Flood's mind. "Yeah, it was! Only, I use my Flood name, Leroy, now. But I use his last name, a lot of us do that," Nuremberg explained. "How come you start every sentence with your name and rank, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, oh, no problem, I've done it ever since I received a combat concussion……or at least that's what I'm told. My name is Captain Keyes and I don't really remember what actually _happened_ so well."

There was an awkward moment of silence between the two.

"My name is Captain Keyes, and if you don't mind _me_ asking, um, what exactly _happened_ to you?"

"Oh, well, initially, I was apart of Ivan Youth. Those are the smaller guys you see scurrying around here, like those over there," he said, taking a moment to point to a group of the aliens idling in a corner. "Then, once we find a host body, we crawl inside and make ourselves at home. Like, take me for instance. My body is no longer Scott Nuremberg, it's Leroy using Scott's body, however……I've got access to his mind and stuff like that. It's our rite of passage in becoming Storm Troopers," he explained.

"My name is Captain Keyes, kind of like when ghosts possess people?"

"Sure! Kinda like that, except, the Flood can't get out of the body once we're there. We're there for life, which is pretty much the rest of forever until we get shot the right way. We don't really have to worry about food, water, disease, or any thing like that."

"My name is Captain Keyes and that sounds like the formula for the perfect army right there."

"Yeah, it's pretty handy, I'll admit."

"……My name is Captain Keyes and why do your commanding officers want information so badly?"

"Oh, um, I don't really know if I should be telling you that," Nuremberg said boyishly.

"My name is Captain Keyes, who would I tell? My name is Captain Keyes, I'm tied to a chair and those Commander guys will probably just kill me as soon as they get back."

"Well……I guess I can tell you a _few_ things. I'm really not _that_ clear on plans anyway, so I don't know if what I tell you is even accurate, but here it goes. See, the main thing the Flood want to do is get off the ring. This is because this ancient race of aliens thought it would be cool if they locked us in these Halo rings and kept us away from everyone else in the galaxy. The Commanders just told me they want to get everybody off and go back to the way things were before……and that's all I know."

"My name is Captain Keyes, what about that maroon armband you got there? My name is Captain Keyes, that insignia looks an awful lot like a swastika. My name is Captain Keyes, a group of humans on Earth used to wear those during World War II, a war that took place hundreds of years ago. My name is Captain Keyes, those humans wanted to kill everyone that wasn't like them……is that what the Flood want to do?"

Officer Nuremberg placed a hand over his armband. "Um……you're kind of confusing me. I don't know anything about a 'World War' and the Commanders have never said anything about _killing_ _people_ who weren't like us. They just wanna get off the ring."

A tidal wave of memories and thoughts rushed into his mind as he continuously turned the ideas of the Flood over and over. It took him a while, but it finally sank in……the Flood wanted _off_ of this ring, and they were going to employ any means necessary to meet this goal. He also had a nauseating suspicion that they _also_ had a galactic genocide in mind and kept this plan from their soldiers.

The Master Chief felt himself rush back together again. A quick glance of the surroundings indicated that he was back on the same platform above one of the many random bottomless pits where he was last with Cortana—the Control Center. He saw the huge replica of Halo floating in the middle of the room and the control panel in which he had left the AI. _I wonder if she's still there_, he thought.

343 Guilty Spark hovered above his head. "_Is something wrong_?" it inquired.

"……No, nothing," he replied.

"_Splendid_. _Shall we_?"

The Spartan approached the control panel, which curved along the holographic map of the ring. There was a constant light show as the complicated mechanics and electronics of the world fed data to the display, all of which were a series of intricate hieroglyphs and symbols of which he couldn't make heads or tails of.

Here, if one knew how to read it, were the equivalents of all of the ring's functions, respirations, and brain waves. What he assumed to be climate controls and other surface data in which to keep the ring world running were displayed as well as the activity of the creatures in which the world had been formed around: The Flood. It was awesome to look at—and even more awesome to consider.

343 Guilty Spark hovered over his shoulder. The tone of the Monitor's voice was slightly arrogant as he gave further instructions to the Spartan. "_My role of this endeavor has come to an end_. _Protocol does not allow units from my classification to perform a task such as important as the reunification of the Index with the core_. _The final step is reserved for you_,_ Reclaimer_."

"Wow……don't _I_ feel special," he said bluntly. The Chief shrugged, accepted the Index, and continued to gaze at the panel in front of him. One likely-looking slot glowed the same green that the Index gave off. He slid it in and it was a perfect fit. The control panel shivered as if stabbed and a mechanical settling noise was heard. Guilty Spark turned as if to look at the holograph.

"……_That_ _wasn't supposed to happen_," he said.

There was a sudden shimmer of light as Cortana appeared over the control panel. Her eyes were bright pink, the sentence"Now I'm Pissed" scrolled across her body in various places, and the Chief knew she was truly peeved.

"Oh _really_?" she said. She gestured and the Monitor fell to the floor with a clank.

"Keep your pimp-hand strong, Cortana," the Master Chief said.

"_You_ shut up. I've spent hours cooped up in here watching you toady about and helping that _thing_ get ready to slit our throats!"

The Chief looked at the Monitor and back to Cortana. "Hold on now, he's a friend."

"_Fr_-_eeeeeend_……" the Monitor said eerily, moving closer to the Spartan.

"Oh, I didn't realize. He's your _pal_, is he? Your _chum_? Do you have any idea what that_ bastard_ almost made you do?!"

"Jealous……"

"You don't, do you?"

"……Activate Halo's defense system to wipe out the Flood. Which is why we brought the Index to the Control Center."

Cortana's image held out the Index. "You mean _this_?"

Instincts long dead became alive again, 343 Guilty Spark now hovered above the ground and sounded furious. "_A construct in the core_? _That is absolutely unacceptable_!"

Cortana's eyes glowed as she bent forward. "Sod off!"

The Monitor darted higher to Cortana's level. "_What impertinence_! _I shall purge you at once_!"

"You sure that's a good idea?" she answered tauntingly as she held up the Index and it disappeared.

"_H_-_How dare you_!" Spark exclaimed. "_I'll_—"

"—Do what?" Cortana challenged, "_I _have the Index. All _you_ can do is float and sputter!"

The Master Chief held both hands up. "Enough! The Flood is spreading. If we activate Halo's defenses, we can wipe them out."

Cortana looked down at the human with much pity. "You have _no idea_ how this ring works, do you? Why the Forerunners built it? Halo doesn't kill _Flood_, it kills their _food_. Humans, Covenant, whatever! You're _all_ equally edible. The only way to stop the Flood is to _starve_ them to death. And that's exactly what Halo is designed to do, wipe the galaxy clean off _all_ sentient life! Don't believe me? Ask _him_."

The Master Chief felt like a total jackass and he gripped "Valerie" tightly. He turned to the Monitor.

"……Is it true?"

343 Guilty Spark looked around. "_Of course_," the construct said comically. "_The installation has a maximum effective radius of twenty five thousand light years_, _but once the others follow suit_, _this galaxy will be quite devoid of life_, _or at least any life with sufficient biomass to sustain the Flood_……_but you already knew this_. _I mean_, _how couldn't you_?"

"God dammit……"

"Left out that little detail, _didn't _he?" Cortana said, making him feel worse.

"_We followed outbreak containment procedure to the letter_," the Monitor explained. "_You were with me each step of the way as we managed the process_."

"Chief," Cortana said suddenly, "I'm picking up movement—"

"—_Why would you hesitate to do what's already been done_?" 343 Guilty Spark chided.

"I think we should go, like, _right now_," Cortana insisted.

"_Last time you asked me_: _If it were my choice_, _would I do it_?" he rambled as a flock of Sentinels appeared behind him. "_Having had time to ponder your query_, _my_ _answer has still not changed_. _There is no choice_. _We much activate the ring_."

"Get—us—out—of—here," Cortana stated solemnly.

"_If you are unwilling to help_, _I will simply find another_," the Monitor said haughtily. "_Still_, _I must have the Index_. _Give your construct to me_, _or I will be forced to take it from you_."

The Spartan looked up at the Monitor and eyed the machines gathering behind him. His weapon came up at the ready. He felt Cortana favouring him with a "please don't let that mean man take me!" expression.

"That's _not_ going to happen."

"_Very well_……" the Monitor sighed. He turned to the robots behind him. "_Save his head_. _Dispose of the rest_."


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN-HUT! **

**D+ 68:03:27 (Spartan Mission Clock)/**

**Halo's Control Center**

**(take a chance take a chance takeatakea chance chance)**

**(No! I **_**hate**_** that song!)**

**(no! u must luv it!)**

**(Son……your life was over before it began)**

**(aye aye, major silva sir :'D)**

Stanley and Big Pat entered their base and took note of the excessive amount of bodies that scattered the floors.

"Okay……this is unsettling," Stan said to no one in particular.

"……I gotta bad feeling about this," Big Pat said. "You don't think it was that Spartan guy, do you?"

"No. I'm pretty sure the Rapture happened and Jesus came to kill all of the Flood that weren't worthy of a life in heaven," he said, rolling his good eye.

"Jesus hates fascists. But, I don't think Riley's gonna do what we asked in the end. This'll end up being _his_ fault if we all die."

"F'sho. That dweeb couldn't follow directions if he had them on a piece of paper and the barrel of a gun pointed at his head," he said as they boarded the lift. "It's kind of hard to believe that the fate of this war lies one third in his hands."

"'Spartan' soldier……whattas that mean? Is that some kinda elite group?" Big Pat inquired.

"It's the code name for guys like him with the special armour."

"Oh. How do you know all this?"

"Did you forget? I'm an ex-Marine. Duh."

"'Duh' is right."

They exited the lift and saw more carnage, the same amount that Ivan and Jared had encountered earlier. They still pressed on, eager to reach their leaders and eager to stop the stupid universal raid.

Each room they entered looked the same. Bodies, bodies, and more bodies.

"Sheesh……if I had a dawlar for every dead guy we've seen," Big Pat said.

"Well, the Spartan _was here_," Stanley said, kneeling down next to a corpse and examining it.

"Are we sure it's safe to be in here?"

"Yeah, we're fine. I saw him teleport back in the Library."

Both Floods made it through the rest of the complex in relatively quick time, arriving at the great doors to Ivan and Jared's quarters.

"So……you said you have an idea of how wer gonna stop them from takin' over the universe. How're we gonna do that? I mean, they're highly racist dictators, it's gonna be—"

"—Hard. I know. But, here's my idea. Over the last three years, I've been conducting some research. I've studied the Field Marshals, Schützstaffeln, and Ivan's emotions and personality prior to the invasions of the Covenant and human strongholds."

"So?"

"_So_……I've come to a conclusion."

"What is it?"

"……Ivan is completely and blatantly gay. As are a vast majority of the Schützstaffeln, well, at least all the ex-humans. That's one of the reasons _why_ they are in the positions they have."

"Oh, c'mon, h-how do you know thur gay?! You say that about _everyone_."

"Hey, gaydar, man. You just never have yours turned on."

"Covenant Elites _can't_ be gay. We only have the male gender."

"Whatever. _But_, I also heard he allegedly had an intimate relationship with Rectummarschal Hindenburg……and Captain Anderson……and Officer Löhmann……and Officer Reinhardt……and most of the members of the SS. Perhaps if I were to _seduce_ Ivan, I could get him into such a state of ecstasy that I could convince him to stop the 'Great Deluge'—"

"—Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa……yer gonna _seduce him_?!" Big Pat demanded an answer.

"Well, yeah. I thought it was a pretty good plan."

"Do you remember what we were fighting about just a few hours ago?!"

"Look, this is _different_. I _have_ to do this. _This_ moment is what I've been training for my whole life! And I _didn't_ do anything to the other guy, I thought we established that."

Big Pat looked unconvinced, Stan could tell by his posture, something you have to learn to do when your friends have no faces.

He sighed and put his arm around his significant other. "Look……_you know_ that it won't mean anything in the long run, right? I'm _only_ doing it because we need to save everyone, okay?" he asked.

"Wull……I would feel better if it wasn't er _commanding officer_……"

"I understand."

"I mean, you even said earlier that you wanted him to—"

"—We're _not_ gonna talk about that. But do you understand?"

"……Wull……okay. If yer _totally sure_ it won't mean anything."

"You're a doll! Thanks!" he said, hugging him tightly. "Wish me luck."

"Luck," Big Pat said as he saw Captain Anderson exit the quarters.

"Oh……good evening, Private Stanley. W-What are you doing here?" he inquired bashfully.

Stanley paused for a moment. _Damn_, he thought, _I forgot about the Shitsstaffeln_. Now he'd have to put in double the effort. Anderson would be a hell of a lot easier, though.

"I could ask you the same thing, Anderson. What's a big, brave, Schützstaffel Captain like you doin' hangin' around a bunch of lowly Privates? I thought you were on the ship with the others," Stanley asked, touching every single one of the Captain's medals and examining it closely.

"Oh, well……I-I-I don't really mind. T-There are other, you know, like, soldiers that are higher ranking than Privates around," Anderson replied.

"I suppose……" Stanley said, letting the last medal slide out of his fingers. He placed his hand on the Captain's waist as his gaze fell just beneath his utility belt.

"……See something you like?" Anderson inquired.

Stanley chuckled. "I see _somebody's_ hung like a Nazi war criminal," he commented.

Anderson looked down in horror. "Oh, God! I'm-I'm so sorry! It's just—I was—and—"

"—Not bad. Looks pretty impressive," Stanley concluded with a nod.

Captain Anderson placed his hands behind his back, like a love struck schoolboy.

"Well……you know, it's-it's nothing special, trust me," he answered, though it was hard for Stanley to understand him through his bashful giggles.

"Listen, Captain, I need you to—"

"—You can call me T.J., if you want."

"All right, T.J. Listen, I need you to do a rather large favour for me."

"Depends," Anderson said with a bit of cheek, still retaining a smidgeon of his composure.

"I need to talk with Commander Ivan for a few minutes. I'll be _really_ quick, I _promise_," Stanley said.

"The Führer has a lot on his shoulders right now, I don't think you'll be able to see him, Stanley……may I address you without your rank?"

"I don't mind."

"What do you wish to see the Commander for anyway?"

"Well, it's like this. While I was a prisoner of war, I found out some intel that might be useful to our master plan."

"You don't say?"

"I _do_ say……let me in, won't you?" Stanley said innocently.

"_Well_……if it's beneficiary to our purge of the galaxy, I _suppose_ I could let you see him for a _few_ minutes," he caved.

"Neat, thanks! By the way……I love a man with big guns," Stanley said, tapping the Sniper Rifle that was slung over the Captain's back.

"……Yow……" Anderson chuckled to himself. Stanley quickly looked at Big Pat, rolled his eyes, and mouthed "I'm gonna kill myself," as Anderson stepped in front of the automatic door. After ushering Stanley inside, he finally noticed that Pat was standing nearby, he favoured him with a look of complete disgust. As he watched the massive automatic doors shut behind them, Big Pat cursed to himself. Anderson would pay for _that_ later.

The room was teaming with Schützstaffeln members. All of the black-coated officers were heavily armed and favouring the newcomer with widely suspicious looks. Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, brandishing a shotgun, stood hovering over Ivan, who was sitting at a desk and typing something on a typewriter. His stolen human identity had one aboard his vessel because he was going to sell it for bigg bux on Black Market eBay. Behind his desk on the wall was a huge painted mural of the effstika insignia, similar to the ones in the rally chamber.

"Commander Ivan, sir!" the Captain said, saluting. Ivan didn't even look up from his work but he took his cigarette out of his mouth.

"This had _better_ be important, Captain Anderson……."

"Private Stanley wishes to discuss the plans for 'the Great Deluge' with you."

This intrigued him slightly and he looked up. "……Let me guess……come to soil my quarters with free speech and rebellion once more, Private?"

"While spending time as a prisoner of war at the human base, he was able to scrap together some information about how they will spend their time on this ring."

Ivan rose slowly from the desk and smoothed out his light brown tunic. "_Really_ now? I must admit Private, you might earn a chance to redeem yourself……step into my quarters," he said, placing his hand on the doorframe so it wouldn't shut. They entered and the automatic door shut behind them.

It was of the same dull metal and illuminated by two stolen floodlights that sat on either bed-side table. The bed was, in reality, a slightly more welcoming officer's _cot_. The room in general was rather small and cluttered with things like a metal armoire and a UNSC weapon module. Basic essentials that had been looted from _Scylla 417_ when it crashed. Stanley smiled as he turned around to face his commanding officer. The work that lay ahead proved to be quite interesting.

"So, what is this about eavesdropping on the humans? I like the sound of that," Ivan commented.

"Oh, you know, being locked up in a room guarded by two bored human Marines can get _prit-ty_ interesting. That amount of nothing can make people do or say things they wouldn't normally," he said seductively, moving a little closer to the commanding officer.

Ivan eyed him suspiciously. "Indeed. What did you find out?"

"Just that they're planning a raid on the _Truth and Reconciliation_," Stanley said, viewing the weapons stored in the module. "Nothing _you'd_ be interested in."

"They are?" he asked. "_My _ship? They wish to take _my ship_?!"

"But enough about me……let's talk more about _you_," Stanley said.

"What do you play me for? An idiot? _You_ don't care about me," Ivan sneered.

"See, _that's the thing_……I think we should get to know each other better. After all, _we're_ of the same race, pre-infection as well," he said.

"You make a forceful point, Private……however, it's not my place to—_start anything_ with soldiers outside of my SS," Ivan remarked sensually.

"C'mon, Commander. I've noticed how lenient you are with my punishments. Everyone knows I'm the biggest troublemaker within the Flood."

"Yes, I've noticed. However……I have my reasons."

"Now you're just playing coy."

"You're _not_ wearing a black coat. Then again, I _might_ be able to make an……_exception_."

"Black coat, eh?" Stanley inquired. "What makes your Schützstaffeln so special?"

"Stanley……may I address you without your rank?"

"I don't see why not. You _are_ our leader. Our Führer, isn't that what they call you?"

"Well then,_ Stanley_, do you have any idea what SS stands for?"

"Captain Anderson told me it means 'Schützstaffeln' and that it translates to 'protection squad' in German, which would make perfect sense" he answered, using a cocky tone.

"Yes……Captain Anderson says _a lot_ of things……_doesn't_ he," Ivan said. "Do you wish to know what it _really_ stands for?"

"Oh, don't leave me _hanging_, the suspense is _killing_ me," Stanley pleaded.

Ivan chuckled, leaning in closer to Stanley. "……It stands for 'Sex Slave'."

_I knew it_!_ Private Devon owes me a shotgun_, Stanley thought to himself.

"I figured hate wasn't the _only_ business you were running around here," Stanley chuckled, keeping his innocent composure. Stanley was a magnificent actor, but Commander Ivan was an audience he'd have to pay special attention to.

"Oh, they're not for sale, Stanley. They answer only to _my_ twisted, disgusting, wretched sexual fantasies……" Ivan explained, drawing nearer to Stanley again. "_Every_, _single_, _last one_," he whispered in his ear.

"You don't say. Tell me……how do you manage to rope young soldiers into this elite group?"

"Very carefully, _but_……there are a few tasks the applicant must perform before pulling on the black uniform," Ivan continued as both of the combat forms' only functional eyes met.

"What……you make 'em jump through hoops or something?" Stanley questioned further.

"Not exactly. It's rather hard to explain, so allow me to demonstrate for you," Ivan grinned crookedly as he gingerly leaned in. Stanley was forced to oblige, realizing that he was having _severe_ second thoughts on the matter. He did his absolute best to think about every last thing that made him happy, like working on Warthogs or drop-kicking infection forms as he was forced to endure a grueling two minute kiss with the Commander. He opened his eyes when Ivan was finished and realized that he had allowed him to relocate to his cot and that he was highly uncomfortable.

"Not bad……at least you know your place……what a good soldier," Ivan said with a malicious chuckle.

"Why Commander, _every _innocent Private knows his place is under _you_. At least……every innocent Private who's fond of living."

"I've heard from a few Field Marshals that your performance is something to behold. Apparently, you're very good at your job. Well, _I'm_ very good at _my_ job. Would you like me to show you why _I'm_ your Führer?" Ivan growled.

"I'll 'Heil' because I can hear you!" Stanley answered excitedly.

"This is _not_ how I planned to spend my afternoon," the Master Chief said to himself as red energy beams sizzled in every direction. The Sentinels wasted no time in trying to find a weak spot in his armour. All they needed was one good hit to put him down.

He still had to uphold his mission: Protect Cortana and keep 343 Guilty Spark away from the Index. He turned and raced for the door, still wary of the fact that the "Forerunners" had some weird bias against guard rails. Keeping from falling off _and_ trying to take down the Sentinels was a chore. Still, he had seen the Flood take down the flying machines, and if they could do it without weapons, he sure as hell could do it _with_ a weapon. He concentrated on the closest robot first.

He fired and soon enough, it exploded with a satisfying burst of flame and metal. He pumped another shell back into "the Clyde". While firing methodically, he soon found out that the weapon was highly useful against the Sentinels.

"Now that we have a moment, would you mind telling me about the Flood?" the Master Chief asked, regaining his breath.

"Fine," Cortana sighed. "The Flood are a parasitic life form that exist by infecting a sentient being and consuming their body. From what I've managed to piece together by the Forerunner files I found here, they fought a long waged war with the Flood and finally sealed them inside this ring. I've also found out that the Flood have a severe bias against the Forerunners and all other beings just for this reason. They've set up a totalitarian-fascist form of government underneath Halo's surface, a sort of oligarchy run by two central leaders." An image appeared in front of him, hovering over the same panel Cortana was "standing" over. It showed a wild-eyed, uniformed ex-human who was standing at a podium. The image began to play and it showed him given a speech. His voice was well modulated and clear. He was also very loud and very angry. He spoke in English, but what he heard was major slander against the humans, Covenant, and the galaxy. Smack talk of humans angered the Spartan. The speaker, every once in a while, melted away from his podium and stood within a crew of other creatures who looked similar to him. All were wearing black uniforms or elaborately embellished coats. When he wasn't speaking, his distorted features would never let go of an arrogant, pompous expression of self-praise, like he was too overly-proud of his work. The rant ended with him erecting his left arm in salute. SPARTAN-117 would have given up most things for a chance to put a couple buckshots into his head. He was one of the leaders that were plastered on every ceiling, wall, and pillar. His photo was also one of the highest on the wall in the Library. Cortana appeared again.

"There is another Flood form similar to this guy, but I haven't found a video of him yet," she finished.

"Wow……that guy's a _lunatic_," the Spartan remarked.

"Aren't _all_ raving tyrants?" Cortana asked. "_Apparently_, the Flood just _adore_ him. There's a propaganda film here too, would you like to watch it? I took a look at it when you were away on business."

"I'm okay."

"C'mon Chief, you _have_ to watch the _propaganda film_."

"I'd really rather not."

"Just a few minutes?"

"Perhaps I should start monitoring the things you do while I'm away. Apparently, you're not hanging out with the right people."

"By the way……Medicant Bias's demo tape _didn't_ suck. It wasn't hippy noise. It was peace punk."

"Hippy noise," the Master Chief reassured, taking Cortana's chip out of the control panel and placing it back in his neural slot. Activating a light panel, he passed through the towering doors. He hadn't gone far when another pack of Sentinels came after him. He also ran into two blue-armoured Elites. He pointed at one and it offered the same gesture in return.

"You!" they said at the same time. The meeting was interrupted by the Sentinels, who swept the horizon with their lasers.

Both the human and the Covenant began firing at the flying robots. All three went down with succession in a relatively quick time.

"Wooo! Slap me some skin!" one Elite said, holding up a hand. The Spartan unloaded two rounds into the alien's abdomen. The other alien growled and fired his weapon. Soon enough, he joined his friend.

The Master Chief pushed more shells into "the Clyde". "So, don't tell me, let me guess……you have some sort of plan that will _almost_ get me killed?"

"You've got it. We _can't_ let the Monitor active Halo. We have to _destroy_ Halo."

The Spartan nodded, interested in the idea of getting to blow stuff up. "And how are we to do that?"

"According to the data I managed to study—and by study, I of course mean steal—I think the best course of action is to create an explosion that will destabilize the ring. It's somewhat risky though."

"Naturally……"

"It would cut through a number of primary systems. We need to trigger an explosion on a large scale, however. A starship's fusion reactors going critical would be perfect. I'm going to find out where the _Pillar of Autumn_ went down. If the fusion reactors are still functional, we can use _those_ to destroy Halo."

"Gee, is that _all_?"

"Do _you_ have a better idea?"

"……No."

"Okay then. Let's get going."

The sound of his footsteps produced a ringing echo as he approached the next set of blast doors and touched the panel. The doors gave way to the scene of a battle between more Covenant and more Sentinels. The Master Chief watched with amusement as the robots burned through the ground troops. However, the skirmish was far from one-sided as the robots exploded easily, showering everyone with bits of heated shrapnel.

After watching the two groups whittle each other down, two Elites still stood after the last robot crashed. Knowing that the Sentinels left them for the Chief to take on, he readied "the Clyde" and the Elites took notice of him and charged in. He tossed a plasma grenade the in the space between them. When it exploded, it killed one soldier and wounded the other. One blast from the shotgun was enough to put him out of his misery. He moved through the rest of the corpse and metal shrouded room and opened the final door out onto the pyramid-like structure.

It was dark and a new blanket of snow had covered the ground since he had last been outside the control room. There were sentries, but none of them took notice of the Chief. He heard two Elites talking about how cold it was and there was a scattering of Jackals and Grunts.

"Sang, it is _so_ cold," an Elite said.

"Mhm," the other answered.

"……Wait, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"There! I just saw something!"

"Saw what?"

"There! There it is again!"

"Who is on second?"

"What is on first." Both Elites turned to face each other.

"You know, you really need to get out more. Broaden your horizon, see more people," the second Elite said.

"Psh, _right_! I am probably going to get my head blown off here any second now."

"……Now _that is_ not the attitude to have," the second Elite answered, placing his hands on his hips. Sure enough, the alien was partially correct, only because the Master Chief swung "the Clyde" into both of their necks like a baseball bat, killing them both on impact. That way he could conserve ammunition. Sliding back into the shadows, he eyed his next victim, a spent Jackal who was sitting on a cargo module pouring a thick, oily liquid into the cap of a purple thermos.

"Oi, iss so damn cold ahma freeze me own arse off soon," the Chief could hear him say to himself as he crept toward the alien container. Placing one boot on the bottom of the module, he pushed himself up and outstretched an arm. Seizing the back of the Jackal's battle harness, he yanked the poor sap towards him. Dropping his thermos and letting a high pitched yelp escape his mouth, the Jackal clawed the module to try and pull himself back up, but the Spartan was too strong and the alien barely had another thought before he felt his neck snap.

Checking his HUD, he confirmed that two more red dots were advancing on his position. He went to ready "Valerie", but discovered all he had for his secondary weapon was a plasma pistol.

"Okay, what the hell? _Where's_ 'Valerie'?" he demanded of Cortana, seeing as she was the only one around who would have at least _some_ idea.

"Don't look at me," she answered.

"Well, what gives?! Me and 'Valerie' have been together ever since Reach."

"Maybe it's _better_ this way. _She would never put out anyway_," Cortana said bitterly.

"Excuse me, but I'm not going to sit back and let you talk shit about my assault rifle," he answered. "You also don't fire especially hardened, 7.62 mm _bullets_."

"Listen you—"

"—All right, I don't want to hear it……" he cut her off.

Two Grunts, on their toes, approached the cargo module, pushing each other in front of the other, as not to be the first one to look.

"He was sitting right there!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah! Then I heard him shout!"

"I heard it too."

"……_You_ go look!"

"Na-uh! _You_ go look!"

"_You_ go look!"

"Okay, fine! We'll _both_ go look."

"On three?"

"Yeah."

"……Wait, on three or three _then_ we go?"

"……Three then go, then we'll have more time to live."

Both Grunts gulped and counted to three.

_Enjoy your last seconds_, the Master Chief thought to himself.

The Grunts peeked around the module, but were vastly surprised when they saw only the Jackal's broken corpse. One Grunt threw his comrade an unconvinced stare.

"Heh, maybe he was laughing at an inside joke and fell off?"

"……Then why isn't he moving?"

"…..He laughed himself into a coma."

The Master Chief charged around the crate and beat down both aliens. His HUD read clear but his naturally cautious persona caused him to travel up the ramp to the lookout tower before heading down to the next level of the pyramid. His search paid off and he found discarded ammunition for "the Clyde", a half-loaded S2 AM Sniper Rifle, and two medical kits. Helping himself to the goods, he set off down the ramp and descended down the pyramidal structure.

He ran into all sorts of trouble on the descent. A fresh placement of troops and sentries occupying plasma turrets, but in the end, our hero won out. As soon as he neared the steep slope to the ground, Cortana chimed in with another outrageous suggestion.

"We should commandeer one of those Banshees."

"Why?" he inquired foolishly.

"Um, because we need it to reach the pulse generators before the Monitor? What were you hoping to do, flap your arms?" she retorted.

"Spartans _should_ be able to fly," the Master Chief answered. More than a dozen red dots flashed upon his HUD and it caused him to stop in his tracks. Realizing that even though "the Clyde" proved to be a very handy weapon, long range was something that he just couldn't handle. With no other choice, he switched to the Sniper Rifle he acquired. He didn't bother naming the rifle. He was too depressed over the loss of "Valerie". He managed to kill three out of a billion alien soldiers as he silently cursed the voodoo powers of teleportation. Having witnessed three deaths, the commotion attracted the attention of the driver of a Wraith and the elephantine vehicle lumbered over near his position. The tank actually _helped_ in the Chief's assault. The driver was obviously bored or half asleep because all it did was hurl plasma mortars in the same exact spot each time, preventing further advance of the troops running around underneath him.

Taking back his "No Flood Left Behind" theory, the Master Chief came upon a Flood strewn strip of the first level. As he hurried and searched every body for significant weaponry, he couldn't help but continue to be totally baffled by the same maroon armbands that they wore. Every infected soldier. It was clearly some Flood thing and _only_ some Flood thing, but _what kind_ of Flood thing?

Just as he was about to abandon all hope, he saw a dead ex-human form clutching a rocket launcher near where he started looking. The body was missing one arm and both legs.

_Whoa_,_ how did I miss that_, he asked himself with a tinge of embarrassment. Shadily, he picked it up and checked to make sure it was loaded. Stepping over the Flood corpse, he heard movement behind him. Whipping around, he saw the Flood struggle to sit up.

"……There are two more reloads right by your boots," he said, pointing to the floor.

"Oh……thanks?" the Spartan answered.

"No problem." With that, the Flood made a priceless face and died. By now, he was used to all of the random outbursts and actions of the enemy, so he ignored the Flood and focused his attention on the Wraith that was still firing in the same spot. It took him a good few minutes to find the perfect tank annihilating spot, but he got what he was looking for. After a fine meeting of a rocket duo and the side of the tank, it exploded and showered the surrounding area with flaming alien metal and purple blood. He shot two more rockets for good luck into crowds of Covenant troops.

Thanking his intuition and his firm refusal of letting go of his Sniper Rifle he acquired, he managed to finish off the rest of the platoon. Nearing a now unguarded Banshee, he noticed the two frozen corpses of the guard Elites that he had shot hours ago. He took a minute to overview the artwork on either aircraft. The first read "Drive Me Crazy!" in blue spray paint and had a picture of a Rottweiler gnawing on the side of a grayish planet that looked similar to Earth on the front. Shaking his head, he moved to the second Banshee. This one had a decal of Calvin from the once popular "Calvin and Hobbes" comic strip urinating on the planet Earth and two supposedly naked Elites sitting back to back on the front. Taking offense at the idea of one of his planets being pissed on, he opened the back of the first Banshee and climbed in.

Cortana insisted on a phenomenally droll tutorial of the aircraft prior to the Master Chief's takeoff. He had never flown one of the attack ships before, but figured from his vast experience in UNSC aircraft, he placed all of his confidence in the theory that it would be easy to operate. After using the selective hearing he developed way back on Reach when he was working with her, he commenced a shaky takeoff, but then smoothed the flight out and gained altitude.

It was dark out and it was still snowing rather harshly, which made visibility almost to none. The Master Chief dove into his Military Driver's Ed memory vault and did his best to remember everything Major Dan Prabstheisch instructed, accompanied by the memory of how he always made the Spartans make random stops during the lessons and tests to pick up something to eat from the UNSC facilities. The Major wasn't a small man, he was rather large and frightening……he wasn't a happy man, either.

All of the Driver's Ed nostalgia faded away as he closed in on a well-lit platform jutting out from the side of a cliff and enemy fire rained down the vessel. Not wanting to deal with angry sentries, he made a couple of wide turns and used the ship's fuel rod cannon and plasma turrets to hose down the Covenant.

Not used to Banshee landings, the ship landed with a loud _crunk! _and the sound of glass breaking as it bounced twice and skidded to a halt up against a large metal panel in the middle of the platform.

"Ugh, _thank_ you," the Master Chief grunted to himself as he slid out from the cockpit, went around the ship, and entered a large door.

"We need to interrupt the pulse generator's energy stream. I've adjusted your shield system so that it will deliver an EMP burst and disrupt the generator……but you'll have to walk _into_ the energy beam to trigger it."

"……I'll have to do _what_?" he demanded.

"See that tall, bright, menacing light column over there?"

"……Yes?"

"Walk right into it, champ. If my calculations are correct, the EMP burst _should_ neutralize it."

"_Should_? Whose side are you on?"

"_Yours_. We're in this _together_, remember?"

"……If that's still true, how about I throw _you_ into it?"

"……Look at that, I actually forgot to laugh this time."

Ignoring the AI, he approached the pulse generator silently. Staring at it for a moment, he inquired again to stall. "I have to walk _into_ this thing? Isn't there some easier way to commit suicide?"

"You'll be fine……I think," she replied sweetly.

The Master Chief had planned this all out. If he ever had to commit suicide, he agreed that the best way was to either drink exactly twenty one Jäger bombs, swan dive off of the side of a Naval space station into space, then yank his helmet off and have his head explode _or_ walk up to Sergeant Johnson when he was eating lunch and say "nigger."

He drew in a sharp breath, then plunged himself into the intense beam. He heard an unfathomably loud explosion, felt the ground around him tremour, and the light began to pulsate. After pulling himself out, he noticed his shields had been completely drained and his skin burned like crazy. He felt like that girl on the bottle of "Coppertone" sun block, only a dog wasn't yanking his bathing suit down, but if a Flood had been there, the job _might_ have been taken care of.

"The pulse generator's central core is off-line," Cortana reported.

"……That's it? You're not even going to give me an 'atta boy' for walking into that thing?"

"……_Atta_ boy!" she said with a sarcastically jovial tone.

No sooner had she said that, a flock of Sentinels buzzed into the room, sweeping the area with their tantalizing red lasers.

"……I'd better get _another_ one of those," the Master Chief said as he moved to take them out.

"Well……we're here……are ya happy……?" Juliano drawled as he slowly turned around to face Riley.

"Yes. Thank you, Juli," he said, seemingly less angered than he was before. "All ashore!" he hollered to his crew.

"Canundrum" stood up and looked around.

"What up mah—" Riley screamed as he barreled out of the dropship, but was stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw. The shuttle bay was partially on fire, purple and blue blood was spattered all over the walls, and a few dozen Covenant and Flood corpses littered the floor. Riley, with a serious expression, curled into a fetal position and lay on the floor.

"Hm……this is awkward," "Canundrum" concluded with a nod. "Hey, whatever happened to the rest of the prisoners of war that were with us?" he inquired of Juliano.

"Oops……" he answered, shambling back into the ship's cockpit and opening the long troop bay doors on either side of the prong-like vessel. They all tumbled out in a heap and landed on the floor. "Sorry guys……I kinda furgot you were in there……"

"Man, wut tha hell's wrong witchoo?!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said.

"I said I was sorry……I just furgot……I was all busy with fixin' the—"

"—Aw, _hay-el_ _no_!" "KibblesnTankShrapnel" said as his arm-mounted Fuel Rod Cannon pulsed green. Juliano backed up against the side of his dropship and gulped loudly.

"'Kibbles'! This is not the time for violence!" Riley said, sitting up on the floor.

"……Gammy always said dat 'violence is da nastiest hoe in da cathouse a' life'."

"Exactly! Embrace Gammy's wisdom!" Riley said with a nod. A door to the left flashed and slid open. Not knowing what to expect, the majority of the soldiers panicked, seeing as they were unarmed. The only three who had weapons were "Canundrum", "KibblesnTankShrapnel", and Riley……which meant that, in reality, they had only _two _accurately armed soldiers. Fortunately, an Elite named Roha 'Farthamee entered the room looking highly frenzied and adrenaline surged. He screamed when he saw the group and they returned the favour. The group scream lasted for exactly twenty eight seconds, everyone stagger breathing so it worked.

"Okay, this is getting a little out of hand," "Canundrum" said, interrupting.

"'Bodensee? What are you doing here?! I thought you were dead," 'Farthamee said.

"Psh, _thanks Roha_!" Riley said.

"Hey, sor-ry! But no one has heard from you in nearly two lapses!"

"Well, nevermind that. What's going on here? What _happened_ to this place?" Riley asked.

"It is kind of a long story, but here it goes……the excavation team found _the horror within_ while looking for signs from our lords—"

"—Wait……the horror within? What's that? Some kind of low budget Unggoy movie?" Riley questioned with a laugh.

"I'd watch yer mouth if I was you," the Grunt "Gangrene" cautioned.

"Sorry, I meant that in the most flattering way possible," he answered, patting him on the head.

"No! It is not a movie……it is _the parasite_," 'Farthamee whispered the last part, as if almost trying to sound secretive.

"The parasite?"

"You see the bodies that are not Covenant?"

"……Yeah."

"Those are the product of the parasite."

Riley thought about this for a moment. "_Oh_! You mean _the Flood_! Oh, they may _look_ creepy, but they mean well, they really do. Sweet guys, actually."

'Farthamee fixed a horrified stare on the other Elite. "……You mean to tell me that you have _acquaintances_ within the abomination?!"

"Um……yeah? Is, that bad?" Riley asked.

"Oh no, no, no, not at all……seeing as they_ overran our cruiser and now the whole Forerunner_-_damned ship is contaminated_!" 'Farthamee hollered at the top of his lungs.

Riley shielded his head with his arms and took one step away from the angered Elite Major.

"So, now _they_ have control of the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and……we cannot go anywhere! We are trapped, trapped here like rodents!" 'Farthamee had a massive mood swing and was now sobbing openly, clawing at a wall and leaving long scratches on the metal.

Riley gently eased his arms off of his head and stared at the hysterical Elite. Approaching him cautiously, he placed both hands on his shoulders, and turned him around. "Okay, listen, Roha……you need to take a chillaxitive and calm down," he instructed. 'Farthamee, now laughing hysterically, slapped himself in the face and nearly fell over. Catching himself at the last moment, he slid back up the wall and to his normal height.

"There we go. Feel better?" Riley asked.

"……No. How am I supposed to 'chill' when there is a fascist-run parasite on the loose?!"

"What does it matter if they're fascists? They can do whatever the hecks they want," Riley asked.

"Because……_because_! The idea could spread to the rest of the galaxy! And that just _will not_ do."

"All right, _whatever_. What do we do now? I mean, did anyone make it off of the ship alive and uninfected?" Riley inquired.

"Well……yes and no. The Ship Master and most of the Sangheili……they……"

"……They?"

"……They were attacked by the parasite's leaders. We managed to safely get them out once the leaders left. As far as I know, some survivors and everyone's things are aboard the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_ which is docked a few units up spin where the abomination has not reached it," 'Farthamee explained.

"Okay, all right, finally some good news. Thanks for the help, Roha!" Riley said.

"If I were you, I would get back on that dropship and get the hell out of here……_before they come back_," he instructed, turning around violently, eyes darting to each corner and door in the room.

"Is the Prophet on the _Rice Cakes_?" Riley axed.

"Yes, he is alive."

"……Okay guys. We obviously need to go there, but most importantly, we need to talk to the Prophet and try to get word to the hierarchs to stop the war on humanity," Riley explained.

"Psh, how the hell are you gonna do _that_……?" Juilano inquired.

"I was thinking about possible plans on the trip here and here's what I've come up with. You all know how the Covenant Imperial Marching Band was forced to break up and anything involving band was outlawed?"

"……I was in the C.I.M.B. Drumline, baby," "Canundrum" said with a nod.

"Saxophone section!" Riley said proudly, raising a hand.

"Clarinet!" a Jackal said.

"Oh man, this is _so_ good!" Riley said, trying to contain his excitement.

"Excuse me, but, what does a long-dead, not to mention illegal, marching band have to do with stopping a war?" "Gangrene" asked, raising a hand.

"I was getting to my plan _gosh_, _Gangrene_! Why do you have to ruin everyone's life?! All right, it's risky, but I think we can make it happen. We're gonna try to get the Covenant Imperial Marching Band back together. The highest Prophets have never heard us and I think we were good enough to impress them. I figure we can make a deal with them that, honestly, if they like us, they stop the war. If they hate us, they can continue the war," he explained.

"……What happens if they don't like us?" "Canundrum" asked.

"……I haven't gotten that far yet, but stay optimistic! I know this'll work. Music has immense power over the soul. Now, can you all play something?" Everyone raised their hands except for "KibblesnTankShrapnel", Hanjk, and a Grunt.

"Good! This is a start! Roha, do you know how to play an instrument?"

"……I can play mellophone," he answered.

"Sweet! Let's make a round of the ship and try to find some more members!" Riley said. The team all put their hands in, did a heartwarming "go team!" ritual, and set off through one of the doors.

Stanley lay on Commander Ivan's cot, staring at the ceiling and taking in what he had just done. His plan to seduce the cruel leader worked, but it was nothing like he had hoped for. He knew that by nature, Ivan was a very harsh and rough being, but what he went through was just plain revolting and uncomfortable. Ivan sat up and lit a cigarette. His gaze reverted to Stanley and he chuckled.

"Well……you weren't lying. That was one of _the best_ sessions I've ever had."

"Uh, yeah……was great," Stanley answered unenthusiastically.

Ivan flipped his hair and put his arm around Stanley. "……You know, you've got lots of charisma and the Ivan Youth listen to you. You've got lots of undiscovered potential. How would you like to be on my 'Schützstaffeln'? Be a 'Sex Slave' for me?"

"Um……" Stanley realized that his hypothesis was officially correct. SS officers were _only_ SS officers because Ivan thought they were good in bed.

"You could command troops with the fourth highest rank of authority, do the same things you've seen Anderson do, and……we could get to do this _all of the time_," Ivan explained. "I might even kick Anderson back down to officer so _you_ could be my new Captain."

"Gee, I don't think I'm the right person for the job."

Ivan chuckled. "That's what Anderson said the first night. But look at him _now_. He's got _so much_ authority _and_ good command skills. You could have his position and be the one to get the most action with me. The Flood out there would _kill_ to answer to my sexual needs."

"Do the Schützstaffeln guys get a lot of this?"

"They do, however, it wasn't always so. I've done a few women before, back when we had them, back when we were all experimenting with our new host bodies. They didn't give me the satisfaction that I desired, all ten of them proved to be vastly incapable and inferior. Things made sense and felt better when I first got my hands on a male, and not just any male……it was Hindenburg. He was my first. I suppose that's why he's my favourite. But I'm also attracted to cheeky, submissive boys. That's also why Nuremberg's my new secretary and Löhmann's my favourite officer……the younger the better."

"……Have you done this with the _other_ high-ranking officers?" Stanley inquired, even though he knew the answer.

"Every one of the SS, plus a few others on the side. _Especially_ Anderson and Hindenburg, they've gotten the most nights with me. Nuremberg's still a rookie and I haven't had a slice of him yet. His host body was only eighteen when he took it over……_I can't wait_. Anderson is pretty good, but sometimes he just wants to _cuddle_ or _talk_. Honestly, he's such a waste of time most nights. I need someone like you or Hindenburg who I know will show me a good night with nonstop action. Hindenburg's my top choice, even though he's a pig, but I'd pick _you_ over them all."

Stanley winced. He _didn't_ want to do it again with Ivan. Ever.

"Anderson's the prettiest, but Hindenburg's got the best equipment. He's got an impressive muscle structure, even if he _is_ a fat bastard."

"……Anderson _is_ good looking."

"Isn't he just?! But, like I said, talking is a waste of time. But _you_, you're _perfect_. You're handsome _and_ you've got a great body," Ivan complimented.

Stanley swallowed his pride and tried his best to act like he enjoyed it. "So……you wanna do one more? For the road?"

"Oh, I wish I could, but I've got some other business to attend to. Battle plans to go over, schematics to review……you know, Commander tasks."

"Speaking of 'the Great Deluge'……I had something more to ask you."

"All right, shoot," Ivan said, propping himself up on one elbow.

"……You know, the Forerunners aren't alive anymore, none of them are. The humans are dead afraid of us, so are the Covenant. They want to keep us here and never let us leave. Which, in reality, isn't all that bad. We have everything we could want here. Everything we need to keep the Flood a thriving, powerful race. I think you should call off 'the Great Deluge'."

Ivan looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you _mad_?! You want to let them keep us here, just like the Forerunners did?! I think not. Our enemies are _weak_. We have what we need to take this galaxy back."

Stanley panicked, Ivan was getting testy. Miserably, he reached underneath the sheet and began pleasuring the tyrant again.

"—Come on, think about it. How can you expect to do _this_ with _anyone_ if you're space traveling? You'll be surrounded by soldiers at all times and someone would see you with a bunch of different guys and get suspicious. You know how fags act. Think of all the drama that might arise if they all find out they aren't the only ones with the honour of being the Führer's boytoy."

Ivan eased back down and stared at the low ceiling. "…..You make some serious points. Maybe-maybe we could hold off for another year or two. Perhaps we could even manage to take the other ship that's confirmed to have arrived here, which will mean more troops and more artillery. Or 'artrillery' as that disabled cretin Jared would say," he said with a shrug.

"_That's_ it……_that's_ what you want," Stanley said seductively.

"I'll have to alert my command circle and I've got my job to attend to……_your_ job is finished," he said as Stanley finished. "By the way……there's a towel hanging on my coat rack……you might want it," he advised with a chuckle. He slowly rose from his cot and got dressed. Stanley got up and wiped his hands off before suiting up. Ivan ran his hands through his hair a few times and then looked to Stanley.

"Does this look suspicious?" he asked.

"Your hair's still unkempt and you missed a few buttons on your shirt. No offense sir, but……after we've spent some time in here alone, I think the others might have caught on," Stanley said.

"Oh," Ivan remarked, looking down at himself. He fixed the buttons on his jacket and put his leather belt-sash on last. "How about now?"

"I'm not gonna lie……I've always been turned on by high-ranking uniforms," Stanley admitted as he pulled his tattered armour in place. This much was true. He thought the standard and higher-ranking uniforms were attractive, in a soldier sort of way. Ivan grinned.

"You know, on special occasions and whatnot, I can get up to ten guys in here at a time. The SS are used to this and they are all that are out there," he explained. "_You_ should see Officers Löhmann and Reinhardt together……now _there _are a couple of dirty sluts," he said, sticking his hand in his breeches.

"Just remember……you can't very well get any action when you're invading the galaxy, can you?"

Ivan looked thoughtful. "……I'll have to think about putting universal domination on hold for sexual favours. One last thing……don't mention this to any of the higher-ranking officers. _They_ don't know about this. They think they're the only ones……let's keep it that way."

"You have my word, mein Kommandant," Stanley said. Ivan flashed him a cheeky smile and placed his hand on the automatic doorframe once more.

He exited Ivan's room and headed for the door. Ivan seated himself back at the desk and eyed Stanley hungrily as he left. Both Captain Anderson and Ringsmarschal Hindenburg glared at Stan coldly once they noticed Ivan. He felt a few dozen pairs of eyes sizing him up as he passed to the door. He nodded to them haughtily and left the massive quarters.

Big Pat was waiting outside and it looked like he was having a deep conversation with the two Covenant officers Kristallnacht and 'Magee.

"What are you doing, Pat?" he asked on arrival

"Oh hey, Stan. How did it go?" he asked.

"……I want to shower."

"Not as good as you expected, huh?"

"Ugh, _no_! That was _the most disgusting_ thing that has _ever_ happened to me. I think you'll be happy to know that it was _the worst_ sex I've _ever_ had and would _never_ want to do it again," Stanley shuddered again.

"Hmph, good!" Pat said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, whatever. What are you doing with these pigs?" he questioned, pointing to the officers.

"Oh, I was just having a very interesting conversation with them. Did you know they hate Ivan as much as we do?" he asked.

Stanley was greatly confused by this. "Wait……_what_?"

"Yeah! They said that Ivan favours the human Field Marshals and SS over them and treats them like shit because they've got Covenant host bodies."

"……Excuse me?"

"_And_ they've tried a bunch of attempts to kill him. _Jared_ was in on just about all of them! Isn't that crazy?!" Pat said.

"Ca-razy good!" 'Magee said as he and Pat high-fived.

"Stupid bastard just won't die. _Seven times_ we've tried," Kristallnacht said, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Would have been eight, but, they returned too soon."

"……Maybe we can make this work to our advantage," Stanley commented with a nod.

The Master Chief turned his ganked Banshee in the direction of the second nav point Cortana provided for him and landed it roughly on a second platform at a higher elevation than the first. Luckily, this one was unmanned. This was because the Covenant that were supposed to stand as sentries were inside fighting a platoon of racist Flood soldiers. Seeing as both groups were very angry and very driven, he decided it would be in his best interest if he let the groups whittle each other down. As soon as the room became rather quiet again, he emerged from the safety of the corridor.

Eager to replenish and fix his current weapon situation, he was able to arm himself with plasma grenades, shells for "the Clyde", and a new assault rifle. It wasn't "Valerie", but it would have to do. He was determined to find out where she was. The Master Chief wasn't about to let the Flood get their slimy hands on her.

He had neutralized pulse generator one and was ready to get through number two and move on to his final objective. He stepped into the light, saw the flash, felt the floor tremble, got the bathing suit girl sensation, and was in the process of pulling out when another wave of Flood poured into the room. The Master Chief was so overwhelmed with the repulsive, potty-mouthed creatures that all he could do was run. As he sprinted towards the corridor from which he came, he primed a frag grenade, tossed it over his shoulder, and heard it detonate as he dove between two carrier forms that were making rather unattractive noises.

Once out into the hall, he turned to face the oncoming mob, shotgun at the ready. It was the best weapon for taking out Flood and he took no hesitation in blowing them to pieces as they approached. The whole barrage lasted all but two minutes.

"Pulse generator deactivated—good work," Cortana assured. "……Are you okay?" she then asked.

"I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"Your heart rate is faster than normal."

"Spartans fear nothing," he answered as he reloaded both of his weapons. This was actually a rather fantastic lie. The Flood attack had shaken him up a good bit, but he was determined to ignore it and continue on with his mission. It would have gone better if he had "Valerie".

The Chief made his way back out through the hatch and to the Banshee that still waited for him.

"I managed to find out where the _Pillar of Autumn_ went down. She's located twelve hundred kilometers up-spin," she advised. "Energy readings show her fusion-reactors are still powered up! But, the systems aboard her have fail-safes that even _I_ can't override with authorization from the Captain. We'll have to find him, or his neural implants, to start the fusion core detonation. One target remaining. Let's take care of the final pulse generator."

He followed the new nav point on his HUD, but took enemy fire from a neighbouring installation as he took off. The ground came up fast as he put the ship into a steep dive to avoid excessive fire. He guided it through a pass and into the adjoining canyon. The nav indicator pointed to a tall tunnel adorned with work lights. As he was just about to pass through it, the alien assault craft began to take ground fire.

_Of course_……_it's Monday_, he thought to himself as he prepared for the oncoming assault.

Inside the passage, Covenant stationary guns and ground troops fought endlessly against a tunnel crawling with all kinds of Flood forms. The Spartan was forced to dodge oncoming rockets and plasma fire as he kept from smashing into walls and forced the ship to make hairpin left and right turns. A blistering few seconds of endurance led him to a pair of huge blast doors. They were shut so he was forced to make a jarred landing and open them via a control panel to the right. He heard a deep, metallic creaking noise as the doors attempted to part, but his hopes were shot down as he witness a fiery explosion from the other side. The doors only managed to open one fourth of the way, too small to fit the Banshee through, but just enough for two carriers and a school of infection forms. He used the craft's plasma turrets to exterminate them. He exited the Covenant ship and passed through the door, wondering just how many more Floods were waiting for him on the other side. He took a deep breath and slowly squeezed through the crack.

To his utmost surprise, there were no hostiles in sight on the other side, just a flood of light from powerful beams aimed at two bridges connecting the platforms across one of the ancient's trademark bottomless crevices. His motion tracker read all clear, but he wasn't about to be hoodwinked by the silence. The Flood had this irritating tendency of crawling from nowhere in astonishing groups. There weren't many places to hide. Only a few random blocks were scattered here and there and one of the bridges reached only halfway to his platform. It looked just like the one he had used to cross with Marine support earlier.

He took another breath before walking towards the bridge that spanned across full length. He stopped in his tracks when he came across another lone ex-human standing in the center. He had his back turned to the Chief and was surveying the area on the other side of the cavern. The Spartan raised his shotgun and approached the thing as quietly as humanly possible. He got about halfway when he apparently kicked a rock by accident. The Flood whipped around upon hearing the noise, but to the human's surprise, was unarmed. The combat form stood glaring at the Chief as he raised his hands up by his head upon seeing the shotgun.

"Don't try anything that might get you killed," the Master Chief growled. The Flood stood still for a moment and then proceeded to look to his left and right and behind the Chief. The Spartan raised "the Clyde" at eye level and kept his arm steady. After deeming the area clear all around the super soldier, the Flood, with his hands still raised, gave himself a high five. The high sign alerted about fifty or sixty infection forms that scurried out from underneath the bridge, over the battlements, and around the lone combat form.

_You bastard_, he thought to himself as he blew the ex-human's head off and fired into the mass of aliens. There was a chain reaction of popping as he unloaded five shells into the mob. There was a muffled clacking sound as he jammed shells into the shotgun's magazine tube and started to cross the bridge again. He saw that an amalgam of combat forms began to congregate on the other side. He pinned a grenade and whipped it at a cluster of angry soldiers. After the ensuing explosion, they charged after him with much determination as he retreated, firing the assault weapon. He didn't bother to give it a name either, for it was unworthy. It wasn't even a girl. His back had already hit the wall when the last combat forms launched themselves at him. He reloaded for the third time and had just finished when the final combat form fell at his feet, attempted to rise again, but received a burst in the head for his efforts.

He reloaded both weapons and stepped out on the blood covered bridge. This time he managed to get across successfully with no opposition to stall him. Another set of blast doors opened without damage or hesitation and he was free to pass through to another tunnel and out into the dark, snow-laden valley beyond. As a matter of fact, it was the same area that he had passed through with the Marines before, seeing as the "Earth Rox!" tag a leatherneck had shot using the turret of his Scorpion was still there. Determined to use stealth instead of force because of the darkness, he stayed close to a snowy embankment to the left and ran into a startled combat form. Three bursts from the assault rifle were enough to put him down without further ado.

A Banshee barreled down on his position, burned a trial of plasma into the snow, and managed to melt some branches off of the conifer he hid behind, but it soon lost interest and banked around. He sprinted to the cliff wall and was careful to keep his back pressed to it at all times. The sounds of automatic and plasma weapons, menacing voices, and screams could be heard as the Chief came upon a brace of Covenant soldiers taking on a group of Flood. He took cover between a tree and the side of a tall mound in the Earth.

The scene was grim. Lower-ranked Covenant screamed and panicked as Elites scampered about, trying to put an end to the parasitic menace. Each time a Covenant warrior was killed, a Flood soldier stood over the body, raised a left arm out, and yelled some sort of victory shibboleth. Others kicked their kills. In the end, both groups had succeeded in annihilating one another.

Snow crunched under his heavy MJOLNIR boots as he strolled through the corpse littered hills. He trampled up another rise and was met by a combat form and a carrier. Both hissed as they were cut down by 7.62mm slugs. Free to follow the nav indicator, he came upon another valley where he nearly walked straight into another Flood to Covenant skirmish. He waited behind a boulder until both packs had destroyed each other and picked off a few remaining Flood forms. Veering to the left, he discovered a small cave with a group of dead Marines and a scattering of useful supplies. After a good minute of reeling through a pros and cons list, he decided to trade the wannabe assault rifle for a rocket launcher and "the Clyde" for a Sniper Rifle. He reloaded both weapons and grabbed some fragmentation grenades, thinking he could always come back if he made the wrong choice. Carefully hiding the weapons deeper into the cave, he dragged the bodies of the Marines inside as well, hoping that the infection Floods wouldn't find them. The last thing the Spartan wanted was his fellow men turned into raving, racist aliens when he could have easily prevented it. He realized that someone else had already taken their dog tags. The Chief was a bit disappointed, seeing as he now had a hefty collection of them. We all have our hobbies, I suppose.

He hijacked a Ghost and left the second valley, managed to get it over a small drop-off, and came to a _third_ valley. The Spartan came across a familiar setting. The Covenant and Flood duking it out with all they had. The religious aliens had some advantages though, including three Shades, a cavalry of Ghosts, and two active Wraiths. The Flood won out in number of bodies though. He climbed to the top of a small mound near the entry to the valley. Switching to the rocket launcher he named "Bruiser", he set the crosshair on the Wraith farthest to the right. He sent the first rocket barreling towards it, but it moved out of the way to smash into a group of Flood combat forms. Cursing to himself, he waited again for it to move back into place and fired. This time it hit the tank head on and it rocked violently in effect. Reloading, he aimed again and the third M19 round blew long metal pieces off of the Wraith and sent them burning into the yearning, huddled masses. Satisfied with that job, he reloaded and pointed "Bruiser" at the next Wraith. He had just set the crosshair on the purple beast, when he heard a vaguely Elite chuckle somewhere near him. Panicking a little, he switched to his Sniper Rifle and looked around in a controlled frenzy. His motion tracker read clear and he couldn't see anything. What made matters worse was the second tank had presumably taken warning and lobbed a burning energy mortar his way. It came up short, though, landing next to an Elite in active camouflage, sending him sprawling and turning the surrounding snow into a purple Jackson Pollock painting. The splash damage from the mortar caused another stealth Elite's active camo to flicker once and the Spartan aimed two rounds at the alien. They caused his shields and camo to deactivate, leaving the Chief free to blow the Elite away. He heard a distinct, "wort, wort, wort!" coming from somewhere close. He whipped around and kicked at the shimmering air in front of him. An Elite appeared out of thin air and looked upon him with a startled expression.

"……I have _got_ to stop doing that," he said with a nod. Standing, he gave a low, guttural roar and attempted to rush the human again. The Chief side-stepped the blow and emptied a 14.5mm bullet point-blank through the Elite's back, throwing him forward and allowing his blood to seep into the snow.

_You bastards nearly got me_, he thought as he slapped another magazine in place. He took back his spot on the mound and finished off the second mortar tank. When he was out of rockets for the launcher, he took a small trip back to the cave and switched it for "the Clyde".

When all was said and done, he moved up behind a boulder and a few trees. He put on the 10X setting on the Sniper's scope and surveyed the area through the quaint sniper world. He took down the Shade gunners first, made sure no more Grunts in his view could run to the turrets, and then he moved onto the Jackals, their shields making his shots difficult.

The Master Chief was just about to move to the Elites in his view when someone grabbed the barrel of the weapon and gave it a hard yank.

"Gimme that!" an almost Elite-like voice ordered as the weapon was jerked from his hands and an ex-human Flood in an elaborate uniform shoved him down. He positioned the S2 AM on the top of the five foot boulder and took aim.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?!" the Chief demanded.

"I _take_ what I need, _human swine_!" the Flood spat. The Spartan sat for a moment, stood back up, and aimed a punch at the Flood's back. Horrifically, his fist went right through the creature, ripping his already tattered uniform even more.

"What the?!" he exclaimed, dropping the Sniper Rifle. The Chief pulled his hand out of the officer and it came away dripping with green ichor. The Flood returned the favour, flogging him with whip-like tentacles. "How do _you_ like it?!" he remarked as the Spartan slung "the Clyde", jammed the barrel into the enemy's abdomen, and the buckshot tore the remainder of him apart.

"_That's_ how I like it," he replied, helping himself back up, retrieving the fallen rifle, and repositioned himself over the rock. He finished the work of the irate Flood officer and managed to take out three Elites. His constant stream of slugs and soldier slaughter had attracted the attention of a nearby Ghost. The Elite driver had already fired a cluster of plasma bursts at his rock and the Chief was forced to duck behind it, stalling his attack. Once the Ghost stopped firing and the driver turned to get a better shot, the Chief emerged, aimed the muzzle of the rifle at the Elite's helmet and pulled the trigger. The 14.5mm bullet sliced through the burly warrior's shields, plunging itself deep into his skull. Tumbling out of the pilot's seat, the Elite landed on the ground, his helmet falling off and landing on a snow bank. The Chief was about to make a move for the now unoccupied craft, when he saw two Hunters making their way through a tall door on the other side of the valley, followed by a team of eager Grunts. The Master Chief set the scope on 10X and tried to find the vulnerable patches of orange skin. The first Hunter stopped charging and strafed to his left, trying to get a worthy shot at the human. Taking up a run again, this proved to be a fatal mistake as the Spartan let fly with another slug, which passed right through the lumbering alien's abdomen. The second beast charged past his bond brotha's body, his Fuel Rod Cannon glowing a ghostly green. This alien learned from the mistake his partner made and kept a shoulder down as he ran.

Knowing there was no way he could get an accurate shot with the Sniper Rifle and that the shotgun would render him worthless in this position, he raced for the Ghost. Boarding it hastily, he turned the nose around, facing the oncoming Hunter. He smacked the firing studs for the dual plasma cannons and hosed the spined warrior. It took about fifteen seconds, but the Hunter finally went down with a roar.

The Master Chief made one last sweep of the area, rammed the last Grunt team, and parked the Ghost by the two Banshees the Covenant tried so hard to protect. Without another thought, he jumped into the hatch of the closest assault ship and began to creep upward. The nav point was pointed high and he knew he needed more altitude. It was dark and the snow continued to fall, but when he reached the last platform, he discovered that it was well lit. He lowered the Banshee on the pad and as soon had he dismounted, a team of Sentinels began to sweep their lasers over the area.

"This is the last one," Cortana said. "The Monitor will do anything to stop us."

The Chief managed to destroy two of the machines, but figured he'd conserve his ammo for the Flood tide that he expected upon the deactivation of the pulse generator, and let the door close in the other robot's faces.

"We're close, the generator is up ahead," the AI instructed.

As soon as the Chief stepped into the chamber, he felt a laser burn across his chest. The Chief activated a plasma grenade and threw it at a machine in the center of the cluster. It buzzed around, trying to rid itself of the device, but exploded in a hail of flame, taking two other Sentinels with it. He strafed and shot the remainders with the shotgun, their intermittent force fields trying desperately to recharge. They were too late as the Chief blew two more apart. The fifth machine crashed into the sixth, causing them to slam against a wall and fall to the floor. Two blasts were enough to keep them from rising again. Checking the room to make sure all of the Sentinels had been dealt with, he made his way to his final objected.

"Final target neutralized, let's get out of here," Cortana suggested.

"Let's find a ride and get the Captain," the Chief agreed.

"No, that'll take too long," Cortana advised.

"You have a better idea?"

"There's a teleportation grid that runs around Halo. That's how the Monitor moves about so quickly. I learned how to tap into the grid while I was in the Control Center."

"What _didn't_ you do back there?"

"……The Detroit Tigers won, by the way."

"So, why didn't you just teleport us to the pulse generators?" the Chief asked, growing a little frustrated.

"I couldn't. Besides, exercise is good for you. Unfortunately, each jump requires a rather consequential expenditure of energy and I don't have access to Halo's power systems to reroute the energy we need," she paused in thought, and then continued. "There may be another way, however."

The Spartan shook his head. "Something tells me I'm not going to like this."

"I'm pretty sure we can pull the energy we need from your suit without _permanently_ damaging your shield system or the armour's power cells. Needless to say, I think we should only try this once."

"My MJOLNIR is such a battered child."

"Oh, hush……I've got a good lock on Captain Keyes's CNI transponder signal. He's alive—"

"—Praise the lord—"

"—And the implants are intact! There's some interference from the cruiser's damaged reactor. I'll bring us as close as I can."

"Do it."


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVENTEEN **

**D+ 73:34:16 (SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock)**

**On board the **_**Truth and Reconciliation**_**.**

**(srzly cheef, u shuld raze ur grades. D+? 4 shame)**

**(Automatic response from SPARTAN-117: I hate everyone)**

**(: )**

There was a moment when the Spartan couldn't feel any part of his body. At a dizzying velocity, he finally felt himself being pulled back together by the voodoo powers of teleportation. He saw swatches of what looked like the interior of a Covenant ship as the familiar bands of golden light pulsed around him.

"Wait a minute……" he said to himself as the interior came into view more accurately. Everything was upside-down as he crashed into something hard. At first, he thought it was the deck of the ship, but decks are usually flat and usually don't yell when you land on them.

"Ow! Watch where you're landing, buddy!" he heard a voice say. "_Honestly_, they should _not_ give senior citizens licenses to teleport!" it continued to rant. Then he heard it. The incessant laughter.

"……That one Elite whose name I don't care about?" the human inquired.

"Dave! We _have got_ to stop meeting like this," the Elite answered. "So, whatcha doin' here? Here on business? Negotiating stocks with the Flood?"

"Yeah, that's right……I'm negotiating stock with the Flood. Now, I'm late for the meeting so get away from me," he growled, climbing off of Riley.

"Yeah, so am I. Actually, I'm not. I lied. I'm here with my peepz trying to wrangle up the Covenant Imperial Marching Band alumni, seeing as they—"

"—You want the truth? I don't care," the Chief answered as he tried to listen to Cortana.

"……Do you hate me because I lied to you? I'm sorry if I hurt you're feelings," Riley said.

"Shhh!" he ordered.

"Oh! I see the coordinate data needs to be—"

The Chief smacked the general area where his implants were and shook his head.

"—Right. Sorry. The Covenant network is in absolute _chaos_—"

"—Pst! Dave! I wanna listen!" Riley whispered, reaching for his helmet.

"Go away!" he whispered back, holding an arm out to keep Riley back.

"From what I've been able to piece together, the leadership ordered all ships to abandon Halo when the found the Flood—" Cortana continued.

"—Come _oooooon_!" Riley insisted, struggling against the human's strength.

"Shooo!" the Master Chief answered, shoving him.

"—But they were too late. The Flood overwhelmed this cruiser and captured it."

"Cortana! Make him go away," he asked.

"Don't look at _me_."

"Come _oooooon_! I wanna know what's goin' on with my peepz! I _need_ my peepz!" Riley whined, placing his head close to the side of the Spartan's helmet.

"Then shut _up_!" the Chief demanded.

"Anyway, they're terrified that the Flood will repair the ship and use it to escape from Halo. They've sent in a strike team to neutralize the Flood and prepare the ship for immediate departure."

"Are you done now?" he asked the Elite.

"Yes," he answered with a laugh. "Thank you."

The Master Chief took a glance at the bulkheads of the ship. "I still think your ships are girly. How come they're purple?"

"THANK YOU!" Riley yelled suddenly, startling the Chief. "I'm _soooooo_ glad I'm not the _only one_ who is tired of purple and blue!"

"_Now_ will you finally leave me alone? _Forever_?"

"……F-F-_Forever_?" Riley asked, looking very upset.

"Yes."

"Oh, wait!" Riley said as he ran after the Chief and grabbed his arm. The human tried to jerk it away as he turned. Even though his was lanky, the Spartan took note of the alien's vice-like grip.

"What _now_?" he demanded.

"You dropped this before you time-traveled back at the Library," he said as he slung something over his shoulder. It was none other than "Valerie", his beloved assault rifle. He snatched it out of the alien's hands and proceeded to lock it in a vice-like hug.

"Where did you—how did you—"

"—I figured you'd want it back, seeing as it's heavy artillery," the Elite shrugged with a smile. "You're lucky you get to time-travel. You're like, H.G. Wells or something."

The Chief was about to reply, when a panicked and disturbed voice came over his implants. "_My name is Captain Keyes_, _can't you take a joke_?! _My name is Captain Keyes_,_ leave me alone_!"

Master Chief sped down the hall as Riley called out, "seal the deal! Careful, though! Those guys are sharks! Especially the Japanese one!"

Captain Keyes was still in the clutches of Officer Leroy Nuremberg. He was getting rather nervous. By accident and by his own slight intolerance, he had made a comment that upset the Flood officer.

"My name is Captain Keyes, c'mon man, it was a joke, I'm sorry!"

"Well, I guess you're just one of those meanies, I _knew_ it! And I don't like meanies."

Beads of sweat began to form on Keyes's forehead. He had seen other Floods in action and wasn't sure how crazy the soldier in front of him would get. There must have been a reason as to why _he_ in particular was summoned to carry out with the interrogation. He tried to think about things other than the atrocities of the Flood as he shut his eyes and tried to keep his mind off of the horrors of Halo. He thought about a sunrise he once watched and the first time he had killed another human, during the riots on Charybdis IX, both highly related. He thought about the day he graduated the Academy and when he first began, thinking that he wouldn't be able to meet their standards. He also thought about his father's funeral.

"My name is Captain Keyes, I'm sorry about that comment. My name is Captain Keyes and I didn't know you were a homosexual!"

"Captain? _Captain_?! I've lost him," she stated.

The pain and fright in Keyes's voice was clear. They had to search deeper and find him.

The Chief passed through a door, which slowly slid open, and noticed that the bulkheads were painted with Covenant blood. A battle had been fought here and he expected to see the Flood at any moment. His throat felt dry and his heart beat a little faster.

His hypothesis was confirmed as he passed through another door and heard the sounds of a raging firefight and a loud voice yelling out commands in Flood noises. He waited until the groups had beaten each other down and moved in to take care of the survivors.

From there he took a left, then a right, and then came to a hatch. It opened to reveal a large dark hole and beyond it _another_ firefight.

"Analyzing data……" Cortana said. "This hole was caused by some sort of explosion. All I detect down there are pools of coolant. We should continue our search somewhere else."

The Master Chief nodded and turned to go back through the hatch he came through. As soon as he turned the corner, though, a grating from above in the middle of the hall clattered to the floor, and Flood soldiers and infection forms began to pour out of it.

"There he is! Get him!" one Flood hollered as they began barreling for the human.

"Warning! Threat level increasing!" Cortana yelled as more and more Flood came around the far corners. He fired and retreated in shifts, trying to cut down the massive cluster as much as he could. But there were far too many aliens for one person to handle. He backed towards the hole as he whipped a fragmentation grenade around the corner.

"That jump into the hole is looking better all the time, Chief!" Cortana suggested.

"What?" he answered as he turned around to face it. However, his mind was slower than the rest of his body, and he already felt himself falling. After a twenty-metre fall, he plunged feet first into a deep pool of coolant. The green liquid was _so_ cold that he could feel it through his armour. It was thick too—and gave him the air of swimming in a bowl of pudding. If it _indeed_ had been pudding, he would have been the happiest man in the universe.

He pulled himself out of the coolant pool and onto the dirt-covered Earth, which almost acted like a beach. The winding areas underneath the ship were dark, intimidating, and lit only by the luminescent glow of the coolant pools or by the constant streaking of plasma fire.

"Let's get out of here and find another way onto the ship," Cortana suggested.

He moved up to the dark passageways, lobbed a grenade into the mix of Covenant and Flood soldiers, waited for it to go off, and continued on through.

Moving forward forced him to deal with more pitch black passageways, the task of tripping over corpses, and dealing with an exhausting amount of Flood forms.

"Hey, _hey_! Buddy!" someone said as they grabbed his shoulder. The Master Chief looked closer and saw an Elite lean closer to him. "Do drugs?" he asked.

"……No," the Chief replied.

"Look, I cannot have these anymore or they will kick me off of the ship," he whispered. The Chief activated his helmet-flashlight and got a look at what the Elite was holding. He had six white, capsule-like pills with a divider in the middle to cut them in half.

"……Are you popping Vicodin?" the Master Chief asked with disgust.

"It makes you feel good and I cannot handle anymore disappointment in my life!" the Elite answered.

"Allow me to put you out of your misery, then," the human offered, raising his shotgun and blasting the alien with two rounds. "Crazy alien," he muttered as he stepped over the Elite's body and continued his mission.

After passing through the grottos of coolant and past legions of bodies, Cortana began talking again.

"We should head _this_ way—toward the ship's gravity lift." Another nav indicator came up on his HUD. He was about to start following it, when he heard a noise coming from the distance. To be honest, he thought it sounded a lot like _music_. Curiosity piqued, he followed the constant stream of noise to a coolant-filled basin. He gazed in horror at the Flood soldiers that filled the basin. They were all chasing frightened Covenant soldiers, doing some sort of twisting dance, and splashing each other in the coolant as the song "Wipeout" played loudly over the Covenant's intercom.

"Beach party! Surf's up!" he heard someone yell.

"The horror……" Cortana said quietly.

Ignoring the AIs remark, he turned to go back down the path, seeing as there was no way in hell he wanted to join in _that_ bout of festivity. He hadn't even got off of the path, when he brushed something with his boot. Leaning down, he discovered it was an S2 AM Sniper Rifle, just one of the many weapons that were scattered around the area. He picked up the rifle gratefully, checking to ensure that it was loaded, and settled himself behind a small rock near the drop-off into in the basin.

All of the Covenant soldiers went down very easily, but the Flood were impossible to kill with this sort of weapon. Realizing there was no more he could do, he triggered two plasma grenades and pitched them into the party. He heard screams as they went off, rocking the festivity and sending bodies flying in every direction.

"Party's over," he said as he took up "the Clyde" again and jumped down into the pool. He moped up the rest of the partygoers in no time and moved to the next passage where he was just in time to see a mob of Flood overcome a Shade and the Grunt gunner. The Spartan fired at the Flood, always backpedaling, always ready for the oncoming threat. Soon, he had cut the Flood down and the area refilled with Flood defenses. He continued his barricade of fire until he was out of ammo for both weapons. He pried energy weapons out of dead Covenant fingers and bled them until they were dry.

Finally, after twelve minutes of torturous mayhem, he found himself standing alone with nothing to shoot at. He felt a creeping sensation of pride—he was _alive_.

_I rule_, he thought to himself. But there was no time for further rapture or praise, he had to find Captain Keyes and save him from his captors. He continued on the path ahead that had previously belonged to the Flood and met with a dozen infection forms. Having acquired human weapons after the fight, he aimed three hardened M6D bullets at them, and it proved to be enough to pop them all.

He had finally reached his destination and the gravity lift sat on top of a tall hill in the center of the clearing, there was only one problem……another Covenant verses the Flood battle surged violently before him.

"There's the gravity lift!" he heard Cortana say. "And it's still operational! That's our way back in!"

The Master Chief pitched two grenades into the mix of opposing soldiers and they served to cut the groups in half. He was just about to attempt to sneak around the others, when a Shade sent a stream of plasma bolts his way, just grazing a boulder to his right. He pulled back into the shadows, waited for the gunner to lose interest, and dashed out again. Upon a moment he had to regain his composure, he saw an area where the Covenant were making a last stand to try and keep the persistent Flood Storm Troopers away from the lift. It was the hardest he had ever seen the alien soldiers fight and almost felt a sort of brotherhood with the Covenant. Dismissing his thoughts, he pulled out two grenades, tossed them between the two groups, and ran in shooting. He had little choice but to kill everything that moved and that was just what he did as he ran up the slope.

As the last of the bodies tumbled off of the slope, he was free to step onto the lift. He felt static crackle around his suit as he was pulled quickly up into the belly of the cruiser.

"For saying that awful thing, you'd _better_ tell me some important, secretive information about the humans or something!" Officer Nuremberg said.

"My name is Captain Keyes, are you insane? My name is Captain Keyes, I'm not gonna tell you anything about us or Earth!"

"……_Please_ will you tell me?" Nuremberg pleaded.

"My name is Captain Keyes, lemme think……no."

"Aw, why not?! I told you some stuff about the Flood! I think it's only fair. It's a small price to pay for such a rude comment."

"My name is Captain Keyes, it's not my fault you're a sucker."

Officer Nuremberg was a little taken aback by this. Not only had he offended him moments ago and apologized, he _dared_ to continue to insult him. Officer Nuremberg _did not_ like to be insulted and he _didn't_ want to make Commander Ivan angry. He had witnessed Ivan getting angry at other soldiers and didn't want to experience the outcome.

"You better tell me something, or……or—" he looked around the room to try and find something with which to threaten the human with, but, alas, he found nothing. He completely forgot that he had a fully loaded M6D pistol strapped to his right thigh and a combat dagger on his utility belt. Another sweep of the room led him to a black, fuzzy wolf spider that was crawling around on the floor slowly near the ramp of the command platform. Nuremberg gently picked it up, trying his hardest not to hurt it in anyway, and brought it closer to the Captain.

"—Or I'll put this little guy down your uniform!" the Flood finished his threat.

Captain Keyes felt an overwhelming, slightly tingling wave of fear wash over him. Spiders, scorpions, and for some reason lobsters, were something he just couldn't handle. It had been that way for many, many years, even before he had joined the Navy. The Captain tried, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time until he completely lost it, or the Flood would indeed drop that spider down his uniform. The thought of the thing crawling all over himself and feeling the arachnid's disturbingly ticklish legs made his skin crawl. He _also_ didn't want to chance it biting him. Wolf spiders were damned big as far as normal spiders went. He closed his eyes again, trying hard not to think about the torment ensuing. He thought about the first woman he had ever kissed as perspiration dripped from his neck and down his back. For a moment, he thought about a lunar Earthrise and his eyes jerked open.

"_Someone's_ got a little bit of arachnaphobiaaaaaa," the officer taunted with a girlish giggle.

Keyes shut his eyes again and remembered the time his father had taken him to a slaughterhouse when he had gotten trouble in grade school for fighting. He remembered his father telling him that, "this is what happens to little boys who fuck up in life."

"……My name is Captain Keyes……no!" he struggled.

"I'm sorry, but, you brought this on yourself," Nuremberg said with a shrug.

The Master Chief arrived at the top of the gravity lift and fought his way through a maze of corridors and rooms occupied by the Flood and Covenant alike. He rounded a corner and the door opened for him.

"This looks like a shuttle bay," Cortana observed. "We should be able to reach the control room from the third level."

The CNI link Cortana followed delivered another message from the local Captain Keyes. "_My name is Captain Keyes_, _get that thing away from me_!" his voice sounded panicked, strained.

"He's frightened, in pain! We _have_ to find him!" Cortana announced.

"I'm being fairly reasonable. Tell me some things about the humans or you'll get a healthy dose of Mr. Spider!" Nuremberg demanded. He opened up both of his hands, but realized that the spider was gone.

"Oh, nickelbottoms!" the Flood said as he crawled on the floor, desperately looking for the wolf spider that managed to escape. Keyes heaved a sigh, but his moment of peace was ultimately overrun by the thought of the thing being on the loose and having full opportunity to crawl up his tunic leg or the chair and down his back. He did his best to keep his feet off the ground and gave a distressed scream.

Thinking about how much punishment the dear Captain was suffering, the Master Chief sprinted faster out onto the gallery above the shuttle bay, found that a pitched battle was in progress, and took out what soldiers he could. His added help had come to the attention of the squad of Covenant and they turned to try and eliminate _him_ from the game as well. Their onslaught was so intense that he had to backpedal to the hatch from which he came to reload, regroup, and focus on targets.

After the firefight ended, he tore for the passageway on the opposite side of the gallery. He ran up to the next level, where he could hear gruff voices around the next bend. Pressing himself against the wall, he listened in.

"Officer Nuremberg still hasn't been able to extract any information from the human. The other Marshals informed me that the Spartan _is_ alive _and_ making his way here right now. It is our duty to make sure that the filthy human doesn't reach the third level. When you see him, activate your grenades and send him to hell with the Forerunners!" their Field Marshal growled. There was a hiss of approval as the other soldiers agreed. The Master Chief thought about the ensuing attack……they _really_ did not want him to get to Keyes. He produced his last frag grenade and stepped around the corner. He noticed that ever since entered back into the ship via the grav lift, all of the Flood soldiers were wearing black uniforms. Prior to this, they had all been wearing tan shirts or gray uniforms. These were obviously the better soldiers.

It looked as though the Flood were holding a convention at the end of the hallway. A few combat forms were standing around viewing an elaborate display of large, tri-fold poster boards. His genetically altered eyes could make out the colourful titles of each. Most were running along the lines of "Drugs and You", "Ecstasy Leads to Empathy", "Speed is for Automobiles, _Not_ Your Body", and "Cocaine: The Devil's Sugar." There were a total of eleven and all of the subjects had something to do with the harmful natures of illegal drugs. The majority of the combat forms were huddled around one of the Covenant panels on the wall and were busting guts at a video someone had made. The strategy of eliminating the Flood would prove to be substantially difficult now, seeing as the Chief wanted very much to keep from destroying the posters, he very much wanted to take a gander at them. The most coveted task was saving the video. The safety of the parasite's current hilarity was a must.

The congregation of Flood was at the other end of the hall and the Marshal hollered an almost battle cry upon seeing him as he stepped around the corner. The kamikaze combat forms barreled down on him with ghastly speed. He retreated a bit, waited for them to get an ounce closer, and threw the grenade directly at a carrier to the left. It detonated at its feet……perfect. The carrier flew into the air, blocking the squad of combat forms, and keeping the detonations away from the loverly projects. The carrier's explosion triggered the combat form's plasma grenades and the corridor was illuminated with a blue-white blast.

"The control center should be _this_ way," Cortana instructed as he dashed ahead.

"Cortana, hold on a moment, I _have_ to look at this," he answered, tuning her out. The Master Chief felt that preserving the video was one of the best choices he had ever made in life. It was a six minute sketch involving two Flood combat forms in black uniforms talking about the dangers of driving under the influence of alcohol. He also learned that every three seconds, someone, somewhere, dies of an alcohol-related auto accident. After it was finished and through a series of chuckles, he popped the tiny disc out of the Covenant panel, inserted it in the only unoccupied slot in his helmet, and pressed forth.

He moved across blood-slicked floors, around corners, and followed the nav point on his HUD that Cortana set up for him. He passed through his millionth hatch at an intersection, took a right, a left, and was passing through another door when they heard a bloodcurdling scream come over the link.

"The Captain!" Cortana cried. "His vital signs are peaked! Please, Chief, _hurry_!"

The Spartan charged through the hatch, teaming with both Covenant _and_ Flood, and sprayed the mass of bodies with bullets.

He finally made it to the CNI carrier's wave source: The control center. The lighting was rather dim and heavy metal columns framed a ramp which led to an elevated platform. But the objective was not on said platform. What he saw when he burst through the door was the back of the Captain, who was bound to a chair and yelling. He could also make out a Flood combat form in a black uniform who was on his hands and knees in front of him. The Chief was about to question the Captain's sexuality and what in the galaxy they were doing, when the Flood stood up, and he saw that the alien had something in his hand.

The Master Chief breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gotcha! Thought you could get away, you little scoundrel," the Flood said, holding a spider. Keyes screamed again.

"I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt you more than it's going to hurt me," the Flood apologized.

"Hey," the Chief bellowed as he strolled into the room. The Flood soldier looked up at the Chief, the expression on his face was both of confusion and fright.

"Wait a minute……" the Spartan said, studying the Flood from across the room. "I saw you in that sketch about drunk driving."

"Oh, you did?!" he asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, it was pretty damn funny, I'll give _that_ to you."

"Thank you so much! Captain Anderson and I worked _really_ hard on it. He actually got drunk too, so he wasn't really acting. He drinks a lot, I think he needs a ride on the wagon, but don't tell him I said that," Nuremberg explained. "We make a lot of videos. I could show some to you, if you wanted. I've got them right here!"

"……Hand over the Captain," he growled as he brought his new shotgun named "Shotgun Number II" to eye level and stopped playing nice. "Valerie" was back and naming rifles was easier now.

"My name is Captain Keyes, _Chief_!"

The Flood with the spider screamed bloody murder upon seeing the firearm, tossed the arachnid away carelessly, and sped out of the room as fast as he could. The Spartan heard another voice that sounded like an elderly man as he yelled for children to get off of his yard.

"My name is Captain Keyes, oh thank JesusGodAllah!" he sighed, hanging his head……just in time to see the monstrous, ebony spider making its way quickly toward a chair leg. He let out a girlish squeal and writhed under the grasp of the ropes. The Master Chief strode towards him and stomped on the spider. It left a gray smear on the metal floor. He proceeded to free the Captain of his bonds and help him out of the chair.

"My name is Captain Keyes, my hero!" he yelled, jumping into the Spartan's arms, hugging him around the neck. He planted a kiss on the Chief's mirrored visor.

"Thank you," he replied unenthusiastically.

"My name is Captain Keyes, he was gonna try to put that yucky, gross spider on me!" he whined. The Chief ignored his constant stream of complaints as he listened to Cortana.

"We can't let the Flood get off of this ring! We have the command codes now. We should go. We need to get back to the _Pillar of Autumn_. Let's go back to the shuttle bay and find a ride. By the way, nice to have you back, Captain," Cortana said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and it's nice to _be_ back," he answered.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE ****(thousand leagues)**

**Tenth Cycle, 16 units (Covenant Battle Calendar: Officer Riley 'Bodensee)**

**8nd g33k5 ru!3! **

During his quest, Riley managed to find fourteen other C.I.M.B. members aboard the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and his team was now on their way to the new cruiser the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_. Among the new group were twelve Elites of various ranks and two Grunts. The marching band had a total of sixty three members and he dearly hoped the majority of them would be on the other cruiser. He had known about six who had died on the battlefield for sure.

"All right! We've got three saxophones, four mellophones, five trumpets, three clarinets, three drumline, and one flute, we're on our way, and we just have to stay optimistic!" Riley said with reassuring laugh.

"How do you know this is going to work?" the "alcohol free" Elite 'Kasamee asked.

"Because the hierarchs have never heard our work before and I think we'll please them."

"Yeah? Well, what if we _do not_?!" a disgruntled 'Kasamee barked.

"Well, we're most certainly not if you're going to have _that_ kind of attitude," Riley answered coolly.

"I ought to—" 'Kasamee threatened, rising from his seat. Riley yelped as he placed his arms over his head and ducked.

"_Don't_ start anything, 'Kasamee," "Canundrum" gave the Major a taste of his own medicine as he stood in front of Riley. He outranked the other Elite and expressed his authority.

"……Then tell your little buddy to keep his mouth shut around his superiors!" 'Kasamee snapped, returning to his seat.

"Keep _your_ mouth shut around _your_ superiors," "Canundrum" repeated to the Major. The other Elites all joined in a group "OoOoOoh".

"All clear, Riley," he said, sitting next to him again. Riley cautiously took his arms off of his head and saw that the Major had retreated. He sighed deeply. "Let's see……I play soprano, 'Sharalee plays alto, 'Gustasee plays alto……I almost forgot one of our secret weapons! Hold on," he said to the group as he leaned over his seat and Juliano's shoulder. "Hey, Juli? Can I use your—" he hadn't even finished his sentence when the pilot Elite handed him a radio. "—Hey! Thanks, buddy!"

"My pleasure……" Juliano answered, keeping his eyes on the view port window.

Riley played with the frequency settings and soon found the one he was most satisfied with. "Gee, I hope this is right," he said to himself as he pressed a panel. There was a burst of static, then a voice came over the frequency loud and clear.

"Officer Zuka 'Zamamee to Dropship Nhezierd," the deep voice answered.

"Hey doll, it's me, Riley!" he said with some hearty machine-gun laugh.

"……What do you _want_?" 'Zamamee asked painfully.

"Look, it's kind of a long story, but here it goes……I've got this plan to try and stop the war. We're gonna get the Covenant Imperial Marching Band back together and play for the hierarchs. We're going to make a deal with them that if they like us, they stop the war on humanity and it's all good and if they hate us, they can keep the war going and then, well, I'll need to think up another plan," he explained.

There was silence on the freq. Riley looked concerned. "……Zuka?"

"……Riley……it is not going to work. Sorry. The hierarchs are just too—they will not like it. Why do you think they forbid everything involving band?" he answered after the pause.

"……You can believe whatever you want, I'm not going to stop you. But we're never going to know unless we _try_. We've got nothing to loose, they're not going to execute a score of reliable soldiers, so we've got to _try_. Please……you're one of the best saxophonists I know _and_ you were section leader for the three years _we_ were together. You _gotta_ represent, man."

There was another pause. "……I am sorry, Riley. I gave up playing, okay? My parents were never keen on the idea, and……I have got a very important mission to finish, I cannot do it. Good luck, though. Officer 'Zamamee out……" he keyed his communications gear out and the freq went silent except for dull static.

Riley mournfully handed Juliano his radio back, but straightened up and tried to look determined to keep the already withering morale of his team up. "It's okay. We don't necessarily need a bari."

"Didn't he have the second solo, though?" a Grunt asked.

"NO SECOND SOLO!" Riley screamed at the Grunt. The diminutive alien squealed and coward in his chair. Riley eased up. "……I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—" he tried to apologize. The Grunt took his arms from over his face and looked up at the Elite. Riley sighed like an angry valley-girl, ripped his glasses off, and sat back down roughly. "I'm just _soooooo_ stressed."

"What do _you_ have to worry about?! _You_ never show up for battle!" a frustrated and tired Elite yelled. Riley didn't feel up to arguing with him.

"We're here……" Juliano announced. Everyone tried to get a glimpse out of the window. The _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_ was two times the size of the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and had more room and more places to go inside. It hovered thirty metres above a snowy canyon a little more than six hundred kilometers from the _Pillar of Autumn's_ crash site.

"……This is it guys. We're gonna need to skedaddle on down to the storage bay and find the instruments because we're not gonna have a lot of time to practice. I'll make a quick sweep around the general area to see if I can find more members," Riley explained as Juliano swung the forked dropship into the shuttle bay. He docked the vessel neatly and the team jumped out of the cockpit and the troop bay. They were greeted by two black-armoured Elites.

"Dropship Nhezierd?" one of them inquired.

"That's us……" Juliano answered, adjusting his beanie.

"What took you so long?" he growled, folding his arms across his massive chest.

Juliano swallowed hard. "……I had to rescue a group of prisoners from the human base, pick up survivors from the _Truth and Reconciliation_, make one stop for repairs, and add the new coordinates for the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_……" he explained nervously.

The angry-looking Elite then eased up. "Oh……excellent work. Only twenty one survivors?"

"Yep……all we could find……"

"That_ is_ a shame. Proceed," he said, stepping out of the way.

"Thanks……" Juliano said with a nod as the party filed past the black-armoured Elites and through one of the many large hatches.

"All right, gang, storage room, please! I'll run around and gather as many member as I can," Riley said as the others ran to the right, he waited for them to leave, and sprinted down the opposite way. There were many Elites in the corridors, and since the marching band was ninety seven percent Elites, it worked out well.

"Anyone who was in the Covenant Imperial Marching Band I need to see you!" he hollered down the different corridors as he raced through the interior of the ship. "Anyone who was in the Covenant Imperial Marching Band! Everyone! Paging all former band geeks! You are wanted in storage at this time!"

There were a whole lot of complaints of the volume being too loud, Riley being too annoying, or Elites refusing to admit they still played their instruments, but Riley was determined to succeed. He argued, quarreled, and even fought one other minor Elite and received a black eye and a cut bottom jaw. Almost all were opposed to the idea at first, but once they learned that his plan was to try and stop the slaughter, many agreed instantly. Other dogs of war took another wave of convincing and promises Riley was apprehensive about making and keeping.

After a grueling twenty five minutes, he managed to scrounge up twenty eight more members. The numbers now stood at forty eight out of the sixty three original members. It was pretty good, more than Riley asked for. They had four tenor saxes, five altos, one soprano, nine trumpets, six mellophones, four trombones, six clarinets, eight flutes, nine drumline members, and five colourguard members. There was only one last thing to do……find some way to get the Prophets of Truth, Regret, and Mercy to see them.

"Ship Master! Ship Master! Ship Master!" Riley shouted as he stormed into the ship's control room.

"What?! What?! What?!" Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee answered. "By the Prophets, it is Riley 'Bodensee! I thought you were dead!"

Riley sighed angrily. "I'm _so glad_ everyone's given me up for de—why aren't you wearing your armour?" Riley asked slowly.

'Fulsamee roared loudly and began sobbing.

"Uh, _yeah_, it is best that you do _not_ ask about that," 'Ikaporamee advised.

"Oh-ho-ho! _I_ see how it is. I always knew you two were in love," Riley said cheekily.

"It's _not_ that……don't make me explain what happened."

"Very well……listen, Excellency, it's crucial that I get in contact with the Prophets of Truth, Mercy, and Regret, or one of the three, or two of the—"

"—_What_?! You are _insane_! There is _no_ possible way you can reach them! They are far too busy to listen to someone of _your_ status," 'Ikaporamee sneered, returning to 'Fulsamee who was still losing it.

"But—but you don't understand! This is about the war and—"

"—_I_ speak for the Prophet and _he_ wishes to know what is going on," 'Ikaporamee inquired, as the minor Prophet approached them.

"Oh my Prophets! Oh my Prophets—" Riley said dramatically as he started fake sobbing and threw himself at 'Ikaporamee's feet.

"……What are you doing? Stop your sniveling," the assistant demanded, somewhat confused by Riley's current actions.

"'Ikaporamee! You need to ask the Prophet of Perpetual Silence to get in contact with the three noble hierarchs!" he begged. 'Ikaporamee stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. Riley lowered his head in embarrassment and shame.

"Who do you think you are?! You cannot go around calling on the hierarchs just like that! They are exorbitantly busy and—" 'Ikaporamee stopped laughing as the Prophet pushed him out of the way. He was sitting on a small antigravity throne and adorned with the same ceremonial robes as the other minor Prophets, which look stunningly similar to those of pastors in Baptist Churches. He took a long few minutes to stare at Riley as he sat on his knees, sizing the downtrodden Elite up. After what seemed like an hour, he folded his arms over his chest and nodded once. Riley immediately brightened up. The Prophet of Perpetual Silence gestured for Riley to rise as he removed his gold-wired headset and placed it on 'Ikaporamee.

"But—but, Excellency!" he pleaded. The Prophet of Perpetual Silence held up a hand and then began making a series of complex gestures, all of which the assistant understood fully. He repeated everything he was signed.

"The humans have captured the Prophet of Filibusting. Their advanced warrior has slaughtered thousands of Covenant warriors single-handedly. They have found one of the sacred rings and are slowly overcoming our occupation. It is clear to me that this war is not going well. Perhaps this officer can do something to help stop this conflict before things start turning against our favour. Very well, Excellency……" he finished, activating the headset.

"_YES_! Thank you, Exalted One, thank you a bajillion, million, fillion times!" Riley yelled. The Prophet had just given him another nod, when Riley started laughing. He immediately tapped his assistant on the shoulder and signed another sentence.

"What did he say?" Riley inquired.

"……Never talk to him again," 'Ikaporamee answered. "Now leave. We will summon you when the hierarchs have made their decision," he instructed.

"Thank you, Excellency. By the way, Ship Master?"

"……What?" he answered through a sob.

"Do you know if the Covenant Imperial Marching Band uniforms are still in ship storage from the _Truth and Reconciliation_?"

"……We have been meaning to get a crew to dispose of them, but……let us just say other things have come up!" 'Fulsamee answered, struggling to retrieve his pill case from his battle harness as he dug through it. "……Why?"

"Oh, no reason……I just wanted mine to send back home so I can have it," Riley said with a shrug. He thanked them another ten times and dashed out of the control room back to storage.

The storage room was vast in size and packed with smashed Ghosts, Wraiths in need of repair, cargo modules with and without wrong serial codes, and modules that belonged to soldiers and carried their personal items. Riley arrived there minutes later. All of the soldiers were putting instruments together, making idle, or playing with the small groups they had formed and hung out with during the seasons. Covenant instruments were almost exactly like human instruments, the exceptions being they had to be redesigned to work with Elite mouths and could only be purple, blue, silver, or black in colour.

"Guys, guys! I talked to Ship Master 'Fulsamee……and he's radioing in the hierarchs now!" Riley announced upon his entrance. There wasn't a whole lot of reaction from the band. One guy yelled, "woooooo!" and three others clapped slowly.

"_And_ the uniforms are still here and in the second storage facility."

"Aw, come on! Do we _have _to wear the uniforms?" an Elite in silver armour whined.

"_Yes_! It's crucial to our show!" Riley retorted, searching through the cargo modules to find the one that belonged to him.

"Yours is over there," he heard someone say behind him as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh, thanks," Riley answered as he turned around……and ran smack into Zuka 'Zamamee.

"_Zuka_! You came!" Riley exclaimed as he gave the Spec Ops warrior as massive hug.

"What did I tell you about the touching?" he asked as he pushed Riley away.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so happy to see you!"

"Are you ever _not_ happy to see me?"

"……Good point. But there's one thing I don't really understand. I thought you hated me and my idea to—"

"—That's not important now. How did you manage to assemble everyone?"

"Well, _a lot_ of explaning, convincing, fighting, and some things I shouldn't have promised. By the way, I promised this one guy I would do 'Scissors' with him if he rejoined……do you have _any_ idea what that is?" Riley inquired.

"Er……I will explain it to you _after_ the show. I _still_ think it is not going to work. But I have got some time to kill and I would rather be playing my instrument than having the parasite feast upon my body," he said with a dull shrug.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to come. _I_ would have to play your solo if you didn't and I don't know if I could do it. _Definitely_ not as well as you, at least."

"I think you could have handled it. It is not that bad," 'Zamamee replied, opening his cargo module.

"Well……good luck, not that you'll need it or anything," Riley said with a laugh.

"Yes, you too," he replied. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"I do. Thanks," Riley said as he patted him on the back and went to set up his soprano sax.

Once everyone had warmed up on a few scales and other exercises, they fetched the uniforms from the second storage bay. They consisted of a gray tail-coat with purple and blue hieroglyphs of the Forerunner language, black gauntlets, a black shako with a holographic plume, and holographic flags of the Covenant which were attached to the back of battle harnesses loaded with plasma grenades. Kind of like if Rambo had a marching band. Most of the Covenant complained about them, but Riley was persistent, and everyone put them out without further question. They were just about to make a run-through of the show, in case anyone had forgotten their parts, when the ship's intercom signaled for Riley to report to the shuttle bay.

"Oh my Prophets! Oh my Prophets! We didn't get to do a run-through! Oh, Prophets, we're screwed!" Riley panicked.

"Relax, Riley, we'll be fine. I don't think anyone has forgotten anything," "Canundrum" reassured.

"Yeah, you're right, we'll be fine. The Drum Major only beat the music into our heads thousands of times over……beat it into our heads! And he's a Drum Major!" Riley burst out in his uncontrolled, staccato machine-gun laughter at his own bad pun. He stood up on a broken Wraith and called for attention to give a loverly speech and to try to raise the morale.

"Everybody! Everybody, can I have your attention, please?! Now, I know most of you probably don't want to be here. I know that most of you have probably given up your band careers for that of a military one and I know that a bunch of you don't like me. But there is one thing I know for sure……it's that secretly, most of you wish you _could_ continue forth in your music career. I know most of you secretly wish that the marching band would get back together for another action-packed season. It doesn't look likely, but, the most important thing is that we go out there and give it all we got. We've won Galactics all of the six years the band was together. This show is only for three San Sh'yuum, but this is going to be the most important show we'll _ever_ play. After we play and get an answer, you can all leave and go back to your stations if you wish. Good luck, everybody!" he concluded.

"Musicians unite and concur!" an Elite in the back of the pack hollered. The other Elites roared in agreement as Riley leaped down from his perch on the tank.

"Let's go stop this war!" Riley shouted as they filed out of storage.

The shuttle bays aboard the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_ were different than those of the _Truth and Reconciliation_. They were much wider and could fit four dropships comfortably other than only two. Upon their arrival at the shuttle bay, they noticed the Prophet of Perpetual Silence sitting with his assistant and the Ship Master. Behind them towered three immense holograms of the three central Prophets: Truth, Regret, and Mercy, all of which looked highly bored. Mercy was even sleeping. Once everyone was positioned in the room, they all dropped to one knee in reverence.

"Noble Prophets, the Sangheili has arrived," 'Ikaporamee said, still wearing the minor Prophet's headset.

"Huh? What? Oh, yes……_the Sangheili_," Truth said, being startled out of his vast boredom. Upon viewing the assemblage of soldiers, he began to rant. "What is all _this_?! You told me that only _one_ Sangheili was here to see me—"

"—_Us_. Here to see _us_," Regret corrected angrily.

"_What ever_. And I _also_ thought that we _broke up_ the Covenant Imperial Marching Band," Truth hissed.

"Holy hierarchs, I come baring a proposition for you!" Riley said, rising and removing his shako.

"A proposition? Are you _daft_?! I have no time for—"

"—_We_ have no time for," Regret corrected again.

"I _thought_ I made it clear you were to _shut up_," Truth growled, turning to the hierarch to his right. "_Anyway_, I am very busy with important……er, _war_ typed things and I most certainly _do not_ have time to sit around a listen to a bunch of mediocre, lazy, poor excuses for soldiers!"

"With all do respect, Holy One, I know you are busy and the decisions you make are more important than all else……but due to recent circumstances……don't you think that the war is sort of taking a turn for the worst on our part?" Riley inquired.

Truth was about to be sent off on another verbal rampage, when the Prophet of Perpetual Silence began signing.

"I speak for the Prophet of Perpetual Silence and he says 'take into consideration the factors I have provided for you'," 'Ikaporamee stated aloud.

Truth straightened up and sat back in his anti-grav throne. "Very _well_, you have got me there. All right, what is your story? And make it quick! You are stalling our game of 'RISK'."

"Well, um……here's the scoop. You've never heard any of our shows, have you?" Riley asked.

"……No, there is a reason for that," Truth spat.

"Well……three years ago before we were broken up, _that_ year was probably the best out of the six years the program was running. We'd like to perform for you. _In fact_……we are _so_ confident that you'll enjoy yourselves, that we'd like to strike a deal with you. You must be completely honest and critical, though……if you like us, you call off the war on humanity and stop the slaughter of your beloved Covenant."

"_WHAT_?!"

"B_UT_! _But_, if you honestly _hate it _and think it was _the worst_ thing you've ever seen, you can continue on with the battle plans, we'll leave you alone, and the marching band will again, cease to be."

Truth remained silent.

"This is _not_ going to work," one Elite in the trumpet section whispered to another.

"Very well……just get it over with. I have got _a cycle_ of other _more important_ things to do."

"Do we have a deal?" Riley asked.

Truth paused again. He whispered something to Regret and then nodded lamely. "_Very well_. A deal. Just _hurry_," he said, resting his head in a hand on the arm of his throne.

"Hot _dog_! Thank you, Exalted One!" Riley said, dropping to one knee again.

The band got into formation, standing stock still, ready to perform while the Grunt colourguards moved all unnecessary cargo modules out of the way until the shuttle bay was clear. Grunts were only allowed to be colourguards. The Drum Major was killed in action, so the Field Commander took his position. The Grunts had stacked a few modules on top of each other so the Field Commander could see everything.

"_Set_!" he bellowed. All of the band members stood stock-still, instruments out in front of them. The Field Commander scanned the whole band, waited for the section leaders and the drumline to nod, and held up his hands. Everyone put their instruments in playing position and the colourguards poised themselves to start moving. A line of different coloured holo-flags and fuel rod cannons sat on the floor a few feet behind them. The Field Commander began to set the time signature with his hands as the brass section began with the beautifully harmonized Battle Hymn of the Covenant (which sounded exactly like the all too recognizable Halo theme).

The battle hymn was beautifully executed, seeing as all of the nine trumpets were highly skilled and had been playing for years, the mellophone players had smooth tones and were perfectly in tune, and they had lost their best trombone player, but still sounded pretty good without him. After the fanfare there was a rippling cymbal and drumline intro, then a rush of intense, tribal sounding measures from the wind instruments. This was the kind of routine that made chills run up and down your spine and all of your nerve ends tingle. The musicians kept complete focus, their military upbringing coming in handy, and the notes and rhythms came to them as though they just played at the Galactic Finals the previous day. The band constructed a rapid chain of constantly moving figures, all resembling the letters and possible star formations of their lords' language.

The sight was simply stunning from the second level view the Ship Master and the minor Prophet were fortunate enough to have.

Grunts scampered back and forth, something they do best, wielding the holo-flags that proudly waved the colours and insignias of the Covenant. The tribal-esque lament came to and end with suspended cymbals and the drumline and the ultimate music experience took place as Officer Morris 'Ontomee belted out a planet burning, ear melting alto saxophone solo. He was one who really got into his solos. _Really_ got into his solos. He was thrashing all around, his fingers nimbly skipping across the keys, and after roughly fifty seconds, hit a high note that could only sound good when hit by a veteran saxophonist. Everyone in the band stood still in their formation.

"……_Wow_……" Ship Master 'Fulsamee said aloud, in complete awe.

The marching band continued with a more jazz oriented song and the Grunts traded their flags for the fuel rod cannons as the musicians made more dazzling arcs and formations. Six minutes into the song, everything stopped suddenly except for the only remaining pit Elite at the plasma drum set who was playing the high-hat cymbals in a standard jazz routine. Special Operatives Officer Zuka 'Zamamee introduced the final song with his bari sax solo, one that sounded smooth, loud, and professional. Riley couldn't help but smile to himself as he listened to the Elite next to him. During the last measure of his solo, the rest of the saxophones joined in, followed by the flutes, clarinets, brass, and the rest of the drumline, one measure before another. The last song was an extremely fast and up-beat jazz song which lasted five minutes.

The show concluded the same way it began, however, it ended with a duet by Zuka 'Zamamee and Morris 'Onotomee as they both played awe-inspiring sax fillers. A suspended symbol as they finished the battle hymn reprise. He cut off when the Drum Major signaled for him and then he gave a nod of approval and the Covenant Imperial Marching Band waiting on bated breath for the Prophet's opinions.

Both Ship Master and assistant stood with jaws agape.

"I speak for _myself_ when I say that was the most intriguing, excellent, perfect performance I have ever seen!" 'Ikaporamee laughed as he clapped his hands.

"Thank you!" Riley said with a laugh.

"No……thank _you_," 'Ikaporamee said.

"I—I do not even know what to say," 'Fulsamee said with a chuckle. "I honestly thought this was going to be a waste of time, you know, but it was cool, it was amazing, it was _soooooo_ musical! You have totally……_wow_. I do not know if this is the 'blow' talking _or what_, but, _man_," he said.

"Well……you did your thing and I have a lot of respect for that. And yes, to be completely honest, _I_ enjoyed it. I appreciate how you added our most well-known battle hymn in the beginning and the conclusion," the Prophet of Regret said with a nod.

"Are you joking me right now?! That was—" the Prophet of Truth began, but was ultimately cut off by the Prophet of Mercy, who had finally waken up.

"—_AMAZING_! THAT WAS THE MOST _SPECTACULAR_, _WONDERFUL_, _GLORIOUS_, MOST WELL-PREPARED MUSICAL PERFORMANCE I HAVE EVER WITNESSED IN ALL OF MY LONG YEARS!" Mercy shouted jubilantly.

"I think we did it guys! That's two out of three votes!" Riley whispered to his section, who grinned in approval.

"Are you—but I—_come now_! You have _surely_ seen better—" Truth stuttered, trying to make sure his and only his opinion counted.

"—Truth……would you shut your enormous mouth?! I think we have heard enough out of _you_! _You_ may be the more central Prophet but _I_ am the oldest……now would you kindly shut you face and know your place?!" he roared.

"So……so, you guys actually liked it?!" Riley asked, trying not to get too excited.

"Well, it is clear to me that the authority on your ship enjoyed it, and you heard the opinions from Regret and myself. It was flawless," Mercy said with a nod.

"So, you'll keep the deal, right? Call off the war so we can go back to a happy life and you can stop loosing valuable soldiers?" Riley questioned further.

"Absolutely," Mercy nodded again.

"But—but—but—the humans!" Truth said in a frenzied panic. He lost and losing was something Prophets didn't tolerate well.

"We will send out a universal message of truce……they will find out," Mercy said, cutting the transmission to his hologram. Regret bugged out as well and Truth was left to argue with them in private in their Inner Sanctum. Growling irately he cut his holo as well with nothing more to say.

The Covenant Imperial Marching Band let out an ear-piercing cheer of jubilation as they embraced one another, careful not to harm their instruments. They tossed shakos into the air and jumped around.

"Zuka! We did it! The plan worked!" Riley said, grabbing his face and giving him the biggest hug he could manage. 'Zamamee couldn't return it because his arms were pinned to his sides and he found it difficult to breathe. Riley finally let him go and looked at up the other officer. 'Zamamee was roughly two inches taller.

'Zamamee couldn't help but smile. "I still do not believe it. I thought the hierarchs were too stubborn to realize such good music when it finally came to them."

"That was our best show yet," Riley said with a nod. "Zuka?"

"What?"

"……Can we be friends now?" he inquired hopefully.

'Zamamee rolled his eyes playfully and sighed. "……I guess I really don't have a reason to be your enemy. Why not? I'll give it a try."

Riley let out a squeal of joy and proceeded to give him another hug. This time he managed to free his arms and return the favour.

"_Now_ can I touch your muscles?" Riley axed after they let go.

"_Don't_ push it……" 'Zamamee growled as he picked his saxophone up.

"Riley!" "Canundrum" yelled as he appeared beside him. More hugging ensued as Riley jumped into his arms. "_It worked_! We don't have to go back to war!"

"_I know_! No more mindless murdering!" Riley said, accompanied with his trademark laugh. "They're even letting us keep our uniforms!"

"Canundrum" rolled his eyes and shook his head as he smiled. He stood with his arm around Riley as they viewed the rapturous shuttle bay. Their plan had worked. They played their most magnificent show, the Prophets enjoyed it, and the war was over. Everything seemed so unreal, and the warrior couldn't help but wonder just how long the Prophets would keep their promise……if they would at all.

**D+ 76:18:56 (SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock)/**

**Ganked Dropship, on approach to the **_**Pillar of Autumn.**_

The Master Chief accompanied the newly rescued Captain Keyes in the cockpit of a dropship they had managed to pilfer from the Covenant back at the overrun _Truth and Reconciliation_. They had actually _stolen _one with all thanks to a Special Forces squadron of Flood Storm Troopers and Captain Keyes graphically describing the story of the night his daughter Miranda was born to the pilot once they stormed the docked dropship. Needles to say, it repulsed the Elite so much that he tried to run as far away from the highly detailed mental images he was getting.

The purr of the ship's twin engines could be heard over the sun-soaked wasteland of the desert as the forked vessel's shadow streaked the ground beneath them. Captain Keyes was at the wheel and, knowing that he could pilot one such vessel, the Chief felt completely safe with him……for once.

The gigantic UNSC cruiser sat perched precariously over a presumably steep precipice. A three hundred metre long trench had been formed when the ship crashed and stood about one hundred metres deep. The trench and the hot air surrounding the massive ship were both teaming with Covenant aircraft. However, one of their own dropships didn't look suspicious, so they were left alone. For the time being.

"We should make this look normal, head for one of the lifeboat bays," the Master Chief suggested.

"My name is Captain Keyes, _waaaaaay_ ahead of you, Chief," he answered as he pulled a lever down on the control panel. No sooner had he done so, an alarm being to go off and a red light strobed.

"_Warning_!EngineTemperatureCritical!GetOut_Now_!" a demonic, computerized voice yelled at them.

"Captain, what did you _do_……" Cortana scolded, sounding like a frustrated mother.

"My name is Captain Keyes, I didn't do anything! My name is Captain Keyes…..this looks like the end, gentlemen," he said as he rose from the pilot's chair and stood behind it.

"What are you doing?! Shouldn't you be driving?!" the Master Chief exclaimed.

"My name is Captain Keyes and, yet again, I must go down with my ship," he said as he snapped to a slow salute and held his place.

Knowing they had come so far and so close, the Master Chief was _not_ about to let this ship go down. He smacked a button by the exit door and it immediately exploded out of its compartment, the wind howling as the ship neared the lifeboat bay. The Chief grabbed the Captain by his wrist and dragged him to the emergency exit.

"This thing is falling apart!" Cortana said.

"It'll hold," the Chief answered.

"We're not going to make it!"

"We'll make it."

"Pull up, _pull up_!"

Just as the ship was about to exist no more and nose-dive over a cliff, the Chief bailed out with the Captain, jumping to one of the lifeboat bays, and catching the bottom of the archway. They were fortunate that the ship came so close and able to give him an accurate jump. He gently tossed the Captain inside of the ship. He pulled himself up as well and dusted his armour off.

"My name is Captain Keyes, thanks for tossin' me! My name is Captain Keyes, what do you think I look like, a sack 'a potatoes?!" he complained, helping himself up.

"It was either I toss you, or you die a most painful death," the Spartan said, pulling out his beloved "Valerie" and the plasma rifle he had acquired from the dropship weapons locker.

"You did that on purpose, Captain," Cortana said.

"My name is Captain Keyes and _no—I—did—not_!" he said, throwing a minor tantrum.

"Anyway, we need to get to the bridge," she advised. "From there, we can use the Captain's neural implants to initiate an overload of the ship's fusion engines. The explosion should damage enough systems below it to destroy the ring."

"Shouldn't be a problem," the Spartan said with a shrug as he headed towards the maintenance tunnels, dragging Keyes behind him. The moment he stepped inside, he saw a cluster of enemies appear on his motion tracker. "Here, take this," he whispered, handing the Captain his plasma rifle.

"My name is Captain Keyes, can I have the assault rifle instead?"

"_No_!" the Chief barked, then immediately silenced, realizing the volume of his voice. "……Sir."

"My name is Captain Keyes, _touch_-_chee_," he said to himself.

They moved silently and slowly through the maintenance shafts. They were dark and tightly cramped. The Chief was claustrophobic and hated being in tight places, but they didn't really have another choice. After moving through the maze-like shafts for a few minutes, he came to a hatch with a ladder still attached to it. He was just about to signal to Keyes to move down it, when a dozen infection form Floods scurried out like rats. He cursed to himself, backed away while tripping over the Captain, and hosed the area with bullets. He couldn't help but relapse on how good it felt good to have his old assault rifle back. Once they were taken care of, he gently chanced a look down into the hatch. He heard synchronized soldier voices and saw a file of Floodmacht soldiers goose-step into the area beneath them. There weren't many, but they were there nonetheless. He waited until they marched directly underneath the hatch and he dropped a plasma grenade on the file. It fused to one of the soldier's epaulettes as he cried out. The Chief couldn't help but giggle at the explosion. Grenades made him giddy.

The maintenance tunnels seemed hopeless and were making him nervous, so he decided to climb down the ladder, with Keyes in tow. The bulkheads were covered with blood, but all the hostiles had been eliminated. He spotted a weapons locker on one of the walls and shouldered his rifle, eager to pry it open and get some more supplies.

"My name is Captain Keyes and allow me to do that, Chief," he offered, stepping in front of the tall super-soldier.

"Um……okay? If you think you can do it," he replied, resting "Valerie" on one of his broad shoulders.

"My name is Captain Keyes, do you know who you're talking to?" he asked. The Chief just looked at him. "My name is Captain Keyes, _that's right_! My name is Captain Keyes and you're talkin' to the captain of the Albert Hofmann High School Terminators football team, class of 2508!"

He shook out his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and grabbed the two severely crushed shutters. He pulled and forced with all of his might, but neither of the shutters budged. He sneaked a look over his shoulder at the Chief who was still waiting patiently. He turned back to the locker, shoulder-checking it now.

"My name is—Captain Keyes and—this'll only be—a moment!" he strained, as he planted his feet on the wall underneath the locker and used almost every single muscle in his body. He couldn't get the thing open.

"Want me to just do it?" the Master Chief inquired.

"My name is Captain Keyes, fine! My name is Captain Keyes, just hope you don't wear yourself—" he hadn't even finished when the Chief yanked it open and pulled out four frag grenades and some ammo. "My name is Captain Keyes……I just loosened it for you."

"Yep……thanks, Captain."

Two Sentinels zipped around the corner and opened fire with their lasers as soon as they spotted the human. Captain Keyes screamed and pressed himself against the Chief's back, conforming to the position he was standing in. Justice was served as he fired away at the flying robots.

"They _might_ have been looking for us, but it's my guess that they were assigned to Flood duty," Cortana observed.

They made their way through half-burned passageways, damaged hatches, and blood-spattered halls until they came to the cafeteria where a posse of Elites and Grunts were congregated. The Master Chief and the Captain peered around the corner as they observed a black-armoured Elite with a two foot pile of hot dogs sat lying at his feet. He was nervously mashing a finger on one of the "gimme food now!" buttons.

"Where is the fucking Gröggen?! I demand Gröggen!" he hollered to no one in particular. Gröggen is a very typical, very disgusting meal eaten mainly by Sangheili peasants.

"My name is Captain Keyes……he's an _idiot_," the Captain remarked.

"A _dead_ idiot," the Chief corrected as he primed a plasma grenade and tossed it at the Elite. It stuck to the back of his leg armour and he didn't even take any notice. A second or two later, it went off, showering the area with bits of Elite and hot dog. The other Covenant in the area panicked and began to shoot at all the doors, including the one the Master Chief and the Captain were peeking from. The Chief retracted himself and pulled Keyes back next to him.

"There's too many to take with just one weapon," he said as he pulled the pin on a frag grenade and whipped it to the far end of the room. He heard screams as it blew on contact with the floor, sending bodies careening. He used another grenade to mop of the rest then strode with the Captain through the corpse-laden cafeteria.

"My name is Captain Keyes and one of those hot dogs is starting to sound good right now," he said, making for one of the "gimme food now!" panels on the wall.

"We don't have time," the Chief said, grabbing him back the collar of his jumpsuit and dragging him out of the room.

It was a short distance to the bridge where a Covenant security team had been waiting for him.

"Halt!" a blue-armoured Elite said as he pointed a billy club at the Spartan. "Get your hands in the air! Put the weapons down, _now_!"

"Are you serious?" the Chief asked himself.

"My name is Captain Keyes, who does he think he is?"

The Chief took two steps forward, ignored the commands of, "_freeze_!" and crushed the head of the Elite with his fist. He used another grenade to take care of the rest of the soldiers, adding to the already severely burned bridge.

"My name is Captain Keyes and look what they've done to my baby!" he shouted as he ran over to the panel where he normally stood and issued his orders. Cortana appeared over the panel in front of him as the Master Chief inserted her chip.

"I leave home for a few days and look what happens," she said as she looked around at the burned equipment and blood stained decks. "We'll need the implants," continued the AI.

"Wait, how are we going to do this? The implants are still inside his head," the Chief asked. Captain Keyes was sobbing to himself as he stood over the main panel in the center of the bridge.

"Just bring him to me," she said. The Chief shrugged and obliged. He grabbed Keyes by the back of his jumpsuit and dropped him in front of the control panel.

"My name is Captain Keyes, what gives?!" he demanded.

"All you need to do is place the implants near the slot and I'll extract what I need," Cortana instructed. The Chief shrugged again, grabbed Keyes's head, and slammed it down on the control panel so the back of his neck sat against the slot. Despite protests, the Chief did not relent. The Captain felt a slight shock as Cortana extracted what she needed.

"This won't take long—there. That should give us enough time to make it to a lifeboat and put some distance between ourselves and Halo _before_ detonation," she said as Keyes lifted his head up and groaned.

The Chief missed the last part of her instruction as he pressed a button on the control panel. He wasn't sure, it just looked intimidating and he didn't know what it did, so he figured he'd press it. As soon as he touched it, Captain Keyes's head jerked to the side, he gritted his teeth together, and his eyes looked glazed over.

"……All right, what did you do _now_?" Cortana asked in her frustrated mother tone.

"……I didn't do it," he answered.

The Captain stood still and straight.

"Uh……Captain?" the Chief asked, waving a hand in front of his face. The Captain twitched and music began playing.

"Oh, I—I just died in your arms to-night! Must've been something you said. I just died in your arms to-night!" Cutting Crew's song played "through" him as he began performing a rather interesting series of robot-like movements. Cortana and the Master Chief watched with intense confusion. Captain Keyes was more or less transformed into an iHome music player.

"I keep looking for something I can't get, broken hearts lie all around me! And I don't see an easy way to get out of this, her diary it sits on the bedside table! The curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle, who would've thought that a boy like me, could come to this?"

"……Wow……I had no idea we could do that," Cortana said, turning to the Spartan. He kept dancing and singing against his will.

"You know, when he's being controlled against his will by an AI controlled program, he's kind of _fun_," the Master Chief commented. "Do we have any metal songs? _That_ would be interesting."

"……Okay, I'll give him that. And the best part is_ I'm_ not even doing this. You hit the button to the music playlist and this must have been the next song," Cortana said, folding her arms over her chest. "But the fun's over, time to get back to work," she said. The Captain stopped gyrating and came back to consciousness.

"My name is Captain Keyes……what happened, where am I? My name is Captain Keyes and why do I have Cutting Crew songs stuck in my head?" he inquired, completely oblivious.

"……Wait a minute! I'm picking up a tap from the Covenant Battle Net ……you're never going to believe this!" she said joyously.

"……What is it?" the Spartan questioned, not eager to hear the news.

"The central Prophets of the Covenant are calling off the war on humanity! They're not sending any more troops out, glassing any planets, or slaughtering any more humans!" she continued. The super-soldier was speechless.

"……W-What? It must be a mistake or a sick joke or something. The Covenant is too bloodthirsty to do such a thing."

"Hm……good point. I'll keep a close watch on it in case it _is_ a trick. In the mean time, let's leave the fusion reactors alone for a while. If anything comes back up, we know what to do."

"But, what about the Flood? Won't they try to get off the ring?"

"Get a load of this……" the AI said. In her place appeared a hologram of the same angry Flood she had shown him in Halo's Control Center. He was sitting at the same podium.

"—We have lost a substantial amount of soldiers and artillery due to this week's recent raids. And so, due to these and other _actions_, Commander Jared and I have decided to _postpone_, 'the Great Deluge'. We're staying on the ring _and_ avoiding other intruders until further notice," he concluded lustfully, grabbing two Floods in black uniforms as he hurried to leave the podium.

"Um……" the Chief began. "……Does that mean we win?"

"I don't know. For the time being, I don't trust anyone. We'll just have to wait and see," Cortana advised.

"My name is Captain Keyes and, since we're here……I'm takin' requests! My name is Captain Keyes, give me a song, any song! My name is Captain Keyes, how about 'A Boy Named Sue'? My name is Captain Keyes, that's a good one!" the oblivious Captain inquired.


End file.
